"Dad there's a spider on your shirt."

Kenzie said it so nonchallantly - with a small wave of her arm too - that I dismissed it as I squated down to pack up Cash's playpen.

I didn't dismiss it, though, when Kristie said, "There is a spider on your shirt --" and then shuttered and backed away from me.

Now, we live in a house of jokesters, so it's hard to tell just when we are telling the truth or having a laugh.

But this was no laughing matter.  So I ripped off my T-shirt, tossed it on the ground, and jumped across the living room.

"Was there really a spider?" I asked, still wondering if it wasn't all a joke.

"No, there was a spider crawling up your shirt," Kristie said and repeated the shutter and backing away.

"Dad, the spider was on your shirt," Kenzie chimed in again.

Then I involuntarily shuttered too.  I can tolerate spiders - as long as I can see them.  Not when they are crawling on me.

Just last week I was taking our dirty clothes out of the hamper when I saw a spider on an article of clothing.  I flung it out and he plopped onto our carpet. 

I was going to ignore him until I thought about it . . . he is now loose in our bedroom.  We sleep in our bedroom.  All I need is to have him crawling across me as I sleep one night.

Before I had even let the scenarios run through my mind, the poor buy was a smudge in the carpet.

"Are you guys sure?" I asked.

"Yes, it was crawling on your shirt," Kristie said.

I shook myself off again and felt something plop into my shorts.  I wasn't about to take those off, so I just chalked it up to my imagination.  You know how it is when you have something crawling on you and you spend the rest of the day feeling like there are things all over you.

So I picked up my T-shirt by the collar, using the very tips of my index finger and thumb and began to shake it, extending my arm as far away from me as possible . . . all I needed was to have the spider fly out of the shirt and at me.

Nothing.

Oh well, the thing was probably more scared of us than we were of it . . . or so I tried to imagine.

I began helping Kristie fold one of our comforters when she screamed again and backed away, her legs kicking and stomping like a puppet being handled by a puppet master that was, well, trying to swat a spider that had fallen down his shirt.

As she backed away, she pointed at my leg.

This time it was my turn to jump and scream.

Sure, enough as I looked down onto the kitchen tiles (I had jumped from the living room into our kitchen) and saw a fat spider slinking across the floor.

Kristie jumped and squeled at the monster while I just held my hands out and opened my mouth.  The only thing that came out was "Ohhhhhhhh!"

I think I did that twice before I saw that the monster was heading for some cover before I lifted up one of our stools and plopped it down on the damned thing.

Kenzie seemed quite pleased by all of this.  For she simply concluded, "See Dad, I told you there was a spider crawling on you!"