The Husband came home from work recently asking if I wanted to go to a co-worker's kid's birthday party that afternoon. Considering he is the absolute most anti-social person I have ever met and the fact that he was actually following through on an invite I had nothing to do with, I said, "Hell yes."
Granted, I had no idea if the birthday child was a boy or a girl or how old they were going to be. And of course, The Husband looked at me like I had asked him to birth our next child (whenever that happens) when I asked him to text his co-worker for the details. You know, so I could run out and get a birthday card and a small gift.
He had obviously done more than his part by actually inviting me to this little shindig.
So we showed up. And Buttercup disappeared into a sea of teenagers. No matter. The guest list included a few little people such as herself, and everyone's attention was focused on the reptile show happening in the living room. Buttercup got a front row seat. Not sure how she was going to react to lizards and snakes up close, I sat nearby for photo snapping and baby rescuing, should the need have arisen.
It may have only been for a second, but every living thing placed before her was touched. Just a finger and then an arm quickly pulled back. The teenagers giggled. Buttercup puffed up proudly. She had been brave and the big kids all knew it.
"Good thing there aren't any spiders," The Husband said, referring to my arachnophobia. I have an irrational fear that stems from severe swelling of my spider bites and a senior high school drum major telling a freshman me that the tennis-ball sized lump on my arm was going to explode into a volcano of spider babies when they were ready to say hello to the outside world. And if I ever run against him for city council, you can bet your ass I'm using that information in my You Suck and I Don't campaign ads.
"Oh they put the tarantulas away just before you got here," the hostess said.
"Good, because I have a leg limit," I said before raising my hand for a chance with the python.
"Leg limit?" The hostess blinked.
"Yeah, more than four and I am so not interested in being in the same vicinity."
And that's when they brought out the scorpion. Which is when I had an argument with myself as I called The Husband over to take my place by Buttercup's side so I could go stand on a chair, holding my skirt up around my ankles, waiting to be rescued. The irrational me wanted to grab Buttercup away from the evil pet scorpion. No way in hell my little girl was petting one of those! But the rational me was telling the irrational to shut the fuck up. Because really? Mama might be a pansy. And a proud one, at that. But it doesn't mean my little girl has to accept my fears as her own.
So I removed myself from the situation. And the chance to take a photo when my baby reached out and pet a scorpion right between the pincers.