I hate bugs. I am absolutely terrified of them. So when I see a creepy-crawly, I totally freak out. I often tell my husband that I married him just for his bug-killing skills. (And why do you think I had 6 kids? I’m never alone, and I can train the kids while they’re young to kill the bugs for me!)
Ok, so I’m kidding.
A few weeks ago, a wasp got in the house. Hubby was at work, and the older kids were at school. Since Lucy and Parker are as petrified of bugs as I am, that left me to take care of things.
The wasp was hanging out on the kitchen table. Without a second though, I grabbed the bottle of spray butter and soaked the sucker. I watched as he squirmed in a pool of yellow, but he couldn’t get out. I quickly put a glass upside down over the wasp and the pool of butter, and I left him there for hubby to take care of when he got home.
Did I mention I don’t like bugs?
Hubby harassed me for weeks about using butter to kill a wasp. The kids joined in too.
So, last week, when a bee was in the bathroom, Lucy ran to the fridge, grabbed the spray butter, and said, “Here, Mom! Kill the bee!”
And yesterday, when another wasp got in the house, I had Parker grab the spatula out of the drawer for me. I smacked the wasp senseless, scooped him up, and threw him off the back deck.
Lucy was so proud of me, that when my husband called to check on us, Lu wanted to talk to him. I overheard her tell him, “Dad! Mom killed a wasp today! And she didn’t even need the butter!”
Sigh. I don’t think I’ll ever live that down!