Scooty Spiders and Comfort Food

What an incredibly thoughtful and nurturing spirit Halle has! She's been known to say, "Good job, Mommy!" or "That's a GREAT idea!" in an encouraging fashion but tonight she caught me offguard.

There were two spiders on my ceiling. The quick ones that don't seem to prefer to use their web.. output... function.. whatever. So they eluded me, going behind my couch/BED and into the cracks in the wall where the ceiling fan meets. I didn't have a panic attack but I did sigh fairly heavily, saying things sort of like "Oh MAN!", "Crimony!", and "Where the BERMUDA SHORTS are you buuuuudddddy?". Having a kid makes you improvise cursing, and I'm kind of hoping that Halle will end up the creative benefactor of my arachnophobia vocab. Cursing, if anything, should be colorful, right?

Sidenote: I warned my neighbors in advance about the tendency for tourets-esque, shouty conversation during the evenings. I figured I might as well get it out of the way.

Halle could tell I was a bit flustered but gave little nonchalant eye contact, breaking her rapt focus on The Burbs and her happy tiny bowl of a small handful of post-dinner wavy chips. When I sat down, she asked me, "Did you get'im Mommy?"

"No baby, those guys were really fast. Siiiiiiigh. They got away from me."

"This for you, Mommy," she said, handing me a potato chip and then patting her tummy. "It make you feel better."

She kept insisting on giving me the last of the chips after that. If there's one lesson she's learned about spiders so thoroughly at her young age, it's that Mommy is scared CHIPLESS of spiders.