Wednesday, March 4

In the name of Egan

The other day I was tidying in the kitchen the way I do 137 times every day. This particular moment was just after school: the big kids were in their designated instrument-practicing locations while Egan freely roamed from room to room. This, however, is one of Allie's least favorite times in her little brother's afternoon. He'll loiter around her doorway until he slowly makes his way into her room only to pound on her keyboard or somehow cause a desk drawer's contents to tumble crashing to the floor. This is when I hear Allie shriek, "MAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHM! Can YOU tell EGAN to get OUT of my ROOM?!"

So predictable, isn't it?

Without a doubt, poor Egan's feelings have been crumpled like a spare sheet of office paper and thrown haphazardly out of Allie's room, door slamming behind him.

As Egan was making his sobbing way down the stairs to tell me all about it, with about 2 more stairs to go, Egan screams bloody murder. At the top of his lungs. Like was just BOO!ed at last year's haunted house.

Allie comes down the stairs, Gil comes running from the family room, and I walk over to find Egan slumped over, bawling into Allie's lap, refusing to go down those final two Steps of Doom. Allie responsibly reported "Egan says he saw a bug."

Gil and I searched around at the base of the stairs only to find a stale Cheerio, a knitting needle, and a stuffed lion puppet. "No bug!" we happily inform a terrified Egan. Only he's not buying it. I picked up Egan to show him the area is as free from bugs as a winter lawn.

About 10 minutes had past when I told the kids I'd offer to walk Daisy. Egan was assisting me, making sure I had everything I needed: leash, poop bag, a capeless right-legless Bizarro Superman. Just as I was shutting the door behind me, I hear Egan's shrill cries for help once more, only I don't buy it and continue to walk the dog. Upon returning, Allie, Gil, and Egan come to the door to inform me that yet again Egan was surprised by a bug. "The SAME bug!" Egan assertively stated, refusing to walk into the kitchen.

While rationalizing with Egan that no bug deserves that kind of attention, I turn to wash my hands and just about step on the very bug causing Egan's conniption. Quickly I squash the damn thing with my Croq (I don't think I look like a dumbass wearing them.). Being one of those Million-legged bugs, I had to stomp, drag, stop, drag, making sure all the little legs stopped twitching, proving the insect's demise.

To this day, Egan reminds me of the bug he once saw at the foot of the stairs and how I heroically killed it in the name of Egan.

3 comments:

Katie and Luca said...

Funny! I was laughing out loud while picturing little Egan and his battle with the bug!

Tara n' Josh said...

So funny - great writing, Em! Those million legged ones are pretty creepy. Brady is totally freaked out of bugs lately, too. I'm usually a little baby around bugs myself, but I'm trying to be brave to show her that they are okay and good for the earth. I was espcially laughing at you cleaning the kitchen for the 137th time/day. Now I know I'm not the only one who feels like that :)

Julie said...

great story em! i miss egan!