wretched creatures

Some animals are meant to be hated. God knew what he was doing when he put enmity between the woman and the serpent. Snakes bite (among other things). Spiders sting (Arachnophobia). Bees/Wasps kill (c'mon, don't tell me you haven't seen My Girl). Mosquitoes make you itch like crazy. All of these animals I hate for good reason: self preservation.

But there are some animals that you just have to hate, not because they are necessarily harmful, but because there's something about them that just makes you go "yuucgh." Rats. Bats. etc. etc.

Today, when I was about to take the kids upstairs for their nap, I noticed a cockroach crawling up the wall (mental note: be careful next time you go over by the kids toys so you aren't scared out of your wits when it comes sprinting out at you. Check). The kids saw it too. I told them to ignore it and head upstairs. I turn away from it, starting to herd the kids upstairs, but all the sudden I hear them screaming. I turn around and don't see the cockroach anymore. The kids are hysterical about the tockroach (as Lily calls them). I ask them where it was, and they pointed to my back. I look over my shoulder, and its crawling up my shirt. I slightly overreacted (read: freaked out!), knock it off, and it bullets across the room. At this, Elliot is so scared for me, and I have to calm him down. I ask how it got there, and he can hardly get an answer, and he points up in the air sobbing and finally gets out, "It flew." Now the poor kids think that cockroaches attack (I guess I can't disagree with them). I had to calm them down and explain that it wasn't going to fly upstairs and get them during their nap, and once they were ok, they all wanted to call Nick and tell him what happened. Whew!

I hate cockroaches. Not because I am scared of them, but because they can come out of nowhere and charge at you for no apparent reason when you turn on a light. Because of the feeling you get when you crush such a big body and their guts squish all over and get on you through the napkin you crush them with. Because they refuse to die. And because sometimes they fly. At you.