There is a rather large spider on the wall behind me. In fact, I’d say it’s downright huge. I have to admit, I’m a bit afraid. I’m not sure what I’m afraid of–the spider, I suppose. It’s big and it shouldn’t be here. Spiders live outside. I live inside. That’s how it should be.
So this is something of a home invasion. And the invader has six legs more than I do and it crawls on walls and is creepy looking. I don’t like it.
I want it to leave.
But enough about the spider. What more can anyone say about spiders? They’re freakish looking and sometimes they crawl on you or bite you. And that ain’t good.
So I could kill it. But something keeps me from taking the guy out. Kill or ignore–there is no alternative.
Luckily this guy has decided to hide behind the Klee piece I have on the wall. Lucky for me, and lucky for him.
But enough about the spider. I promised I’d blog about Baby Pink, and darn it, that’s what I’m going to do.
But I’ve never written about a baby and I don’t know what to say. It’s easier to write about a spider.
I wonder if X is as afraid of Baby Pink as I am of the spider. I would be. Babies are scary. They’re freakish little creatures that puke and poop and cry and scream and just generally hang out in a place that was, until very recently, solely yours. They bite you and crawl on you. They are, in some ways, invaders. But you can’t kill them and you can’t ignore them. At least, good parents don’t kill or ignore their kids. And I have a pretty good feeling X is going to be a great dad. He’s been wanting a
spider baby in his house for quite some time.
I just wish he’d write about it. If I can write about a spider, X can write about a baby.