This morning, mom woke me up at 5:30, screaming hysterically from her bathroom.
"There's a spider!" she cried. "It's coming after me!"
More distressed shrieking.
I squashed the daddy-long-legs (Pholcus phalangioides, according to Wikipedia) under the toe of my slipper, trudged back to her couch and fell asleep again.
Mom needs me for the silliest things.
Like she hasn't really learned to be a grown-up yet.
She's afraid brother is going to move out.
Last week she cried when I corrected her for calling us 'children'.
"We're more like adult-children, Mama."
It's true. He is 19 now, and I haven't been 19 in a fair few years.
Tears from Mama.
"Don't say that!" she blubbered, wiping her tears as she drove down Beach Boulevard.
I just patted her back, trying to comfort a 42 year old infant.
Mom needs me for the silliest things.