Oh the South

Now I'm not saying that I want to stay in the South for forever.  Although last week on an impeccable family walk down our bucolic road to see the cows at the nice farmer's house, Spouse-Who-Used-to-Milk-Cows and I agreed that if mountains were moved just a few miles from where we live and if the humidity could be drained from the sky, we really might stay.

BUT...my feelings of anger toward the South and my general stress-outedness when Captain Kindergarten came out of the bathroom when he was supposed to be getting his pajamas on to say to me, "Mom, there is a bug on my leg and I can't get it off," was significantly lower than in the past.

I calmly went and got the tweezers.  I tugged and pulled the tenacious little critter who pretty much thought 'to the death' would be just fine.  I gave the tick a good look over so I could describe him if I needed to and then with his legs a-pumpin' all the way to the sink in my tweezerly grip, I dropped him in and washed him down the drain.  I did it all without fear and without wanting to swear. 

I've come a long way baby.

I do kind of have the shivers about a tick being up Sidekick Sister's cast.  But what can I do about it except pray deep and sincere prayers of ticklessness.

Oh the South.