Labour Day Camping and Itsy Bitsy Creepy Crawly Things

It's the Labour Day long weekend, the last long weekend of summer, and I we did it single-married-parent style.

Camping with the girls this weekend started with a bang.  Okay, maybe a lot of bangs.

With ...

- some shrieks and screams

- a lot of Raid

- calls for help

- a seven 7r old girl grumbling “all right, where is it?  I’ll get it

- frantic emptying the counter, more Raid

- 7 yr old declaring “oh, its one of those ones.  Those are the bad ones!”

- a Kleenex box (not the Kleenex tissue)

- EEKK!  It’s dropping to the floor!

- grab a shoe!  No not my shoe!  Scrap the shoe, we have no daddy shoes!

- demand to know where there’s a cop with a gun when you need one

- mashing it into the wall in the corner with Kleenex box – omg not working!

- 7 yr old and me mashing it into the wall in the corner with the broom handle about 2000 times

- 7 yr old inspects “Yep, it’s mushed into the wall” and returns to her movie

- another scream

- ZOMBIES!  It’s alive!  Zombie spider!  It’s gone!

- 7 yr old rushing to the scene too late

- smushed it with a shoe

- “Aw mom!  Not my shoe!  Spider guts on MY shoe?!  Clean it off!”

- “No way, you clean it.  It’s your shoe!”

- indignant 7 yr old, “It’s your mess, it’s your problem.  You clean it.”

- grudgingly go outside to wipe shoe on ground.

- We high-5, do the dance, girl power!  OOOAH  OOOAH OOOAH!

- 7 yr old makes me carry her back to bed (wait a minute!  I’m juggling one de-spider gutted shoe, a broom, flashlight, and a 7 yr old?!

... and girls rule and spiders drool.  We killed the beast and lived to tell the tale and I had to scrub the entire stove and counter top.

The 9 yr old pointedly ignored us through the entire ordeal and will probably deny any relation to us in the future.