Mother Load

Hit this. Hard.

Here's another great reason for dabbling in contraception. While doing my weekly voluntary stint at Kraken Junior's school, said offspring went bug hunting with her little cohorts. That's it, that's it, get 'em out from under our feet. Only that upon her return she bowled up to me and triumphantly plonked in my lap a small plastic tub containing a...spider. 
For fuck's sake. If my own house was ablaze I'd rather burn than pass any eight-legged bastard lurking in the doorway. Problem is, in an effort to raise a fearless mini kraken I've never let this onto her. I've quietly smiled at our domestic spider skirmishes and then snuck off to heave my guts up, leaving her to think that I'm equally as brave and fearless. 
Well, I'll be fucked if that plan didn't bite me on the arse today. As Kraken Junior dropped her scuttling booty in my lap I tipped backwards off my stool, agog with fear, and beads of sweat visibly formed on my face as I shrieked "It's lovely! Good girl!". Trapped between deliberately stamping KJ to death or befriending the spindly little fucker (that's the spider, by the way), I actually managed to display supreme pride from the neck up and blind, hysterical panic from the neck down. I almost tore myself in two at the neck.
Today was the day that Kraken Junior realised her mother was less Boudica and more Bag-of-Bollocks. Note it in your diaries.