This morning, I was changing Boy Terror's butt while Girl Terror sat happily at the table, working on a puzzle. I had just gotten into the armpit zerberting, when I heard the most blood chilling scream. I ran out to the kitchen, and there she was, still in her chair, screaming her lungs out. "Rarrrr!!! Tiger! Tiger! Rarrrr!" I shouted "What is going on?!!" and she just kept screaming. "RAARRRR!! Tiger!!!" Now she was pointing at the living room. I looked, but saw no tiger. A sleepy kitty, but no tiger. "I DON'T SEE A TIGER, LOVEBUG!!!" She glanced at me, and then shut her eyes tight. "I TIGER!!!! I TIGER!!!!!!!! RARRRR!!!!" Um, okay. She was a tiger. A very angry tiger. By now, I was bellowing to be heard over the roar of the beast. "WHY? WHY ARE YOU A TIGER?? WHAT'S WRONG?" She glanced at me again, and shrieked "I TIGER! SCARE SPIDER! SPIDER ON MY TABLE! RARRRRR!!!" Sure enough, a little spider had dropped down from the ceiling to the table. And my baby girl was trying to put the fear of vicious tigers into the spider.
After things calmed down, and the spider was relocated to the garbage can, we were talking about bugs. She calmly informed me that spiders live outside. Not in house. I told her it was all okay, I had squished the spider. She looked at me in horror. "Where his Mummy?" Uh-oh. "Now his Mummy sad. Poor spider." Somedays, you just can't win.