Picture this.... It's 4 am. Miss A just finished her early morning feed. I quietly put her back to sleep and walk into the bathroom. And there IT is.... A roach the size of a small child. One of those mutant Dow Chemical tree roaches. There, on the floor I just cleaned, heading toward my closet. For a few seconds I am frozen... my fight or flight is conflicted. I run to the kitchen and get a handful of paper towels and return to the bathroom. And I'm frozen. I can't kill it.
He scurries toward my closet. Holy OCD!! Do you know how many clothes I will have to wash if he sets one little leg in there?
Quick! Wake the husband!
D wakes up and says "Are you kidding me???" And like an Irishman on St Patrick's day, he stumbles to the bathroom. Uses MY (!!!!) house shoe and creates a crime scene worthy of CSI and leaves... He goes back to sleep and I am left to clean the mess.
After disposing of the evidence of the gruesome murder scene I lay in bed thinking...
If a bear was after one of my kids, I would tell them to play dead while I distract him. Like a big walking T-bone steak and allow him to eat me instead of my offspring.
If Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock came speeding down the road in a runaway bus, I would push my children to the curb and sacrifice myself.
If Troy was screaming "Choot em! Choot em!" and the gator pulled me in, instead of one of my babies. I would gladly become gator food. As long as they live.
So why am I unable to kill the roach? How is it that I become frozen? Is it the splat and crunch of the kill? Is it my female DNA that says "Bug! Run!" This I will never know.
Just know this Miss A and Mr. C.... if I see a roided-out jersey shore looking roach....
You are on your own.
Haha! Okay, and on that jolly note I'm heading for bed. "One little (roach) leg." Hmmm, I could be in for a sleepless night. Haha! *This is FREE: I hate roaches, but would take them over black mambas and scorpions any day. What about you? :)
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