I'll never live this down.

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My youngest daughter is positively petrified of Spiders, I can't really blame her I'm not a big fan of the eight legged hell demons myself. But as the only adult in the house i do try my best to keep calm while evicting or squishing them depending on how brave im feeling or how much I like the wallpaper they are sitting on. To combat her fears and to save my ears from the blood curdling screams that would pierce my eardrums at the sight of every tiny spider or roughly spider shaped item that caught her eye. we started naming them. In the last month Bobby, Brian, Betty and a multitude of other B's have all been dealt with calmly and quietly. while Bertha who has taken up residence in a nook just outside the front door has become part of the family and is greeted each morning with a cheery hello as we leave for school. I was so pleased with the results that I stupidly spent a good half hour yesterday bragging about my amazing technique to another mum whos child is currently being trumatised by demon spiders sheltering from the cold. well as always pride comes before a fall. I was in the kitchen when the screaming started I bolted upstairs to find my daughter pressed against the far wall of the bathroom with her big brown eyes fixed at a spot on the ceiling just above the bathroom door her mouth open to scream again. After calming her and getting her to look away from her tormentor and at me I promised her I'd deal with the beast she named Boris. She promptly ran out of the bathroom with a towel over her head for added protection. Thats when I got my first glimpse of Boris the hamster sized beast.and stifled a scream of my own. The shoe my daughter had now thrown into the room meant i would have to get far to close to handle this in any dignified fashion. it was time to weigh up my options.. 1. Run from the room screaming and ensure that little miss is scared for life. 2. Call in the Army and ask they bring as many flame throwers as they can 3. Move house. 4. dance around the room squealing as i try to pluck up the courage to take a flimsy swipe at Boris before running away crying. none of these where looking good. so I calmly but quickly got my backside out of there (ie ran out of the room with a towel over my head) closing the door behind me. Sat the girls down in the lounge with dinner and a movie before hiding in the kitchen while I cried down the phone to my Dad.