There I was, making a meal for the boy and me, when I saw it. Well, you couldn’t miss it: this big ol’ cockroach was just standing in the middle of my kitchen counter waving hi.

I did my best job at balancing “OH MY GOD there is a ROACH in my kitchen AUUUUGHHH” with trying not to freak out about a bug in front of a 3-year-old.

3-year-old: “What is it doing here?”

Me, with perhaps just a little more anguish than I’d have preferred: “Well… I don’t KNOW. I don’t KNOW why it’s here.”

“I fink I know what he’s doing.”

“You do? What?”

“He’s twying to decide what to do about you.”

That’s a strangely terrifying concept, isn’t it?

Unfortunately for Mr. Bug, he has a much smaller brain than I do and I decided what to do about him first. I’m quite certain there are no more where he came from. Right?