I think I may have instilled my dislike for spiders onto my children. I don't like them. When I see one I call for back up or leave the room. I can, however, step up to the plate when needed. I had a friend in High School who was more terrified than I, when she called from atop her bed and insisted I come right over to get the spider in her room I did. She had already trapped it under a jar and we removed it from her bedroom.
Today as the kids were playing in the yard and cruisin' in their Power wheel, I was enjoying a glass of wine and checking in on Facebook. They parked right at the bottom of the porch steps and carried on a conversation. Then it happened. My son jumped out of the power wheel with shear terror on his face, watery eyes, and screamed to his sister "Get Out! There's a spider coming right for you." She, of course, breaks out into tears, scared to death, wailing. I was impressed by his apparent fear for his sister and laughing at the terror they both possessed...due to me.
I ran down, scooped her out of the power wheel, and immediately went after the spider. I would have loved to whack it with a Kettlebell, but a screwdriver was the only thing handy. My dislike for them never had a chance to enter my mind. I was saving my children (from the fear I caused them). It may have been the liquid courage from the couple sips of wine, it may have been my maternal I'll-do-anything-to protect-my children, but I'll never look at a spider the same again. Bring it on.