This morning, as he was putting on his sneakers for school (and therefore looking for whatever distractions life might hold), Mr6 drew my attention to the fact that the lovely little artwork that hangs near the kitchen had a new addition.
An eight-legged addition.
When I say ‘drew attention to’, I mean ‘shrieked ‘Mum, there’s a spider on the painting!’.
Mr9, drawn into the room by the fuss, was quick to reassure him. “It’s only a huntsman,” he said, with all the sangfroid of one who knew he was far enough from said huntsman to ensure no physical contact.
We all stood for a moment to consider the huntsman, who had drawn all his legs together in an attempt to appear as small as possible.
“How long has he been there, Mum?” asked Mr6.
“Not long,” I reassured him, contemplating the fact that I could have, in fact, been walking back and forth past this spider for days. And days. Back and forth a million times, washing my floors, getting essential writing snacks from the kitchen, chasing the boys to put on their uniforms/shoes/pyjamas.
Chances are I wouldn’t have seen him today, if Mr6 hadn’t seen him.
It’s been a long time since I even looked at the lovely little painting. It hangs quietly there on the wall, all those labour-intensive dots in all their majesty, the beautiful work of local artist Leslie Little.
When The Builder comes home I will have him catch the huntsman and, with great care, rehome him outdoors.
And then the boys and I will take down that little painting and have a really good look at it.
I can’t wait to hear their thoughts about what they see in it.