Last night I was walking my nephew Griffin back to my parents house. I left the sliding glass door open because I knew Hudson would follow us. I dropped Griffin off at my parents house and started to walk back to my house. I then hear Hudson screaming. I looked over and could see he was under the porch light that was on attracting all kinds of moths and large bugs. I run over and pick him up and run in the house and slam the sliding door behind us. I then see two large coming right towards us with bad intentions. I'm not sure but I think one bug had a dog in its mouth. I take a few swings that seem to scare them off. Hudson lets out a groan and I look down and see this bug has landed on my shirt. In one of my least proudest moments I screamed like a girl at a Hannah Montana concert. I nearly dropped Hudson to put into effect my natural reaction of clutching my imaginary pearls. A reaction I have tried to rid myself of. But as evidenced in my previous statement, I have not quite kicked the habit. I ran Hudson upstairs into the safety of his room. I then grabbed the fly swatter and told him, in my best Clint Eastwood, I was going to take care of business. I flew downstairs and began swinging that fly swatter to kill first ask questions later. Needless to say MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!! I pray Hudson is too young to remember some of my more sissy moments.
1 comment:
I remember you screaming like that on a small hill in Hurricane, Utah when we "attempted" a casual hike behind my grandmothers house Spring Break '91 if my memory serves me. A small hill you considered more majestic than Everest. That day you clutched the safe side of the mountain while you screamed. The terror of the gentle slope and the sheer 4 1/2 foot drop on the other side of the trail proved to be too much for you. This shall be the last I speak [publicly] of this event from our youth - as your son will soon be old enough to question your manhood. Let us vault this event e'er more.
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