Fickle

Last night The Boss was settled into bed and I was working on the computer. All was peaceful until he caught sight of a crane fly smacking the blinds. Crane flies (more commonly known as mosquito eaters or colloquially as mosquito hawks or sometimes as daddy-long legs--but that makes me think of the spider--or at our house, for reasons obscure, as "freddies") are oddly leggy but harmless and, though related to mosquitos, do not buzz annoyingly. I don't know if they actually eat mosquitos but I tell the kids they do so they won't bother me about it when they see one.

However, the Boss is inordinately freaked by winged and crawly insects so naturally he became increasingly agitated and kept telling me to "Get it out!". Finally, I snatched the freddy by the wing and flicked it out the door. Deed done. Be quiet and go to bed.

Um, no. That led to ten minutes of him sulking and crying and repeating, "You're mean, mommy. You killed it." and "I want it IN!". For cryin' out loud. Really?

He even opened the door to let it back in and it wouldn't come. So to get some peace and quiet, I got up again and let it back into the room where it flew too close to the bed resulting in cries of, "Get it, mom!" Nope. Deal with it.

This morning it was in my shower and I had to grab it by the wing again and toss it out. The Boss had forgotten all about it.