It all started about a month ago when Carson woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. He had dreamed that his bed was crawling with bugs. For weeks, every night before bed and sometimes in the middle of the night, he’d scream until Tate or myself would check his bed for bugs.
About the time that his nightmare occured, I started noticing centipedes in the kids’ bathroom. (I suppose it’s possible that there really had been bugs in Carson’s bed, but at the time, I’d only seen centipedes in the bathroom.)
Tate and I tried to avoid any accidental meetings between Carson and the centipedes. One evening, while the kids were in the bathtub, a centipede suddenly dropped from the ceiling in the bathtub. Trying not to freak out, I plastered on a fake smile and in my best sing-songy voice said, “Oopsy! There’s a little bit of lint that fell in the bathtub,” while shooting GET THE FRACKING BUG OUT OF THE TUB THIS INSTANT!!!!-looks at Tate.
Which, by the way, have you ever seen a centipede??? Oh the heebie-jeebies! So many legs, so icky!
Before bath time each night, Tate would check the bathroom, doing a thorough “lint”-sweep. If ever we saw a bug, I’d try not to squeal while picking up the “lint” with the biggest wad of toilet paper I could get. “Oh my! So much “lint” in the bathroom!”
Tate and I thought we were so clever.
Which brings us to this morning when I was awakened by Carson yelling from the bottom of the stairs. “MOMMY!!! MOMMY!!! HURRY!!! THERE’S A PIECE OF LINT ON THE STAIRRRRRRRRRS!”
I rushed downstairs to Carson to find him looking horrified and pointing at the bottom step.
“Mommy, I was getting ready to come upstairs and I saw this huge (pronouced “hooge”) piece of lint. See it? It’s right under there??”
I crouched down and saw the “lint,” an enormous centipede staring back at me in all it’s zillion-leg glory (and evil red eyes, that I *might* have just imagined.)
So I guess we weren’t so clever after all. And I’m thinking that I need to call an exterminator today.