There are a lot of things in this world that gross me out, and many things that I'd rather avoid... but there is one thing in this world that will reduce me to a crying, sniveling mess every time --
I'm a good mom... a mighty fine mom, in fact, and I have held more than my fair share of insects, spiders, and various creepy crawlies for my kids. I've picked up Daddy Longlegs and let them crawl up my arm to show my children how they move, how to hold them without hurting them, etc. I've grabbed land planarians so we could look at them under the microscope. I've dug up, captured, and held more bugs than I can count.
All this is to say that I'm not freaked out by our many-legged invertebrate friends.
Which brings me to this evening.
I was trying to "beat the morning rush" by getting breakfast made this evening (at 10:45 pm... yeah, go figure. I'm weird like that). As I opened the dishwasher door to put in my plastic measuring cup, I saw the biggest, brown-est roach running in the door.
I shrieked "ROACH!" and my husband came running from across the house.
He always does. Every time.
When his shoe failed to do the trick (the roach decided to hide between the cabinet and the dishwasher door) he dug around until he found the Ant and Roach killer spray and dispatched it to the great beyond.
Does he understand my fear of the greasiest, most disgusting of God's creatures?
No. Not one bit.
Does he mock me for my fear?
He faithfully comes running every time, no matter what he's busy with, to rescue me and slay the foul beast (and believe me, in South Carolina, we can grow them BIG!)
And that is just one of the many ways that my beloved shows me how much he loves me.