I am not proud to admit it – but yes I am terrified of bugs. Pretty much all bugs. It is not a rational thing. I can’t seem to control my reactions. I was raising a fairly normal child when at the age of 20 months in Florida on a beach, sharing a blanket with her, a gigantic bug landed on our blanket. I screamed like I was being lit on fire. Not my best parenting moment. My husband was not pleased as ever since that day my daughter has been possibly more afraid of bugs than I am. My son is less afraid than the two of us, but still not a “I love bugs” kind of guy. He’s a little squeamish. Moving to the country has been quite an experience for us as we have all had to adapt and get a little tougher. My fellow country-living friend suggested bug swatters in all rooms and this has helped us immensely, but still there are some things I can’t swat.
My fabulous bug-killing-machine husband left us alone for 5 days. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. We would all miss him, but carry on with our daily existence. Of course, on day 1 of this trip, 3 wasps got into the house. WASPS. Seriously. Not mosquitoes or flies which I probably could have handled. WASPS. Have I said WASPS yet? On the first night, my dog acted as my protector and actually killed one. I had to leave it on the floor overnight to make sure it was really dead before I could remove it. I know, I am a big wuss. Later still, on the first night, wasp number 2 suddenly went crazy. He was zooming all over the room at warp speeds and bumping into things and I was cowering on the other side of the room trying to figure out what I was going to do about it. All of a sudden, he went straight up and slammed into the ceiling, which caused him to ricochet right into the halogen lamp that was on, which promptly sizzled him to death. 2 down, 1 to go.
Fast forward two days, we have been keeping an eye on wasp 3 but he wasn’t causing us too much trouble. Suddenly I am in the kitchen running the water and the wasp appears under the faucet where the water is pouring out. I of course turn the water off and leap away from the sink. Then I leave the house because I have to pick up the kids and I am hoping when I get back he will have moved or died on his own. I get back with the kids and my daughter locks herself away in the safety of her room. My son and I devise a killing plan. He uses the swatter while I yell helpful instructions like “Get it!” “Harder!” He manages to maim him so he is in the bottom of the sink, where we take turns swatting and trying to kill him. Then we run boiling hot water for a really long time until we are sure he is dead. Then we have to wait another 20 minutes to make sure he is really dead. Then we are stuck with how to get him out of the drain in the sink. I text my country living friend for ideas and tips. My son and I discuss options. This is a planning session on the same level of some countries pre-war strategy sessions. We settle on using tongs to bring the drain cover outside, with my son opening and closing the door. Mission successful!
Unfortunately – still 2 full days before my husband comes home – not sure if this family can take another wasp!!