Grasshopper

Today, when I got out of Hobby Lobby with the kids I had an unwelcome surprise. A very large grasshopper was perched in the center of Annie's passenger side door on our mini-van. I skidded to a stop about 5 feet from said door and froze in place. After about a 2 minute internal debate, I elected to try to dislodge the grasshopper from it's unfortunate location by hurling a few items at it from my diaper bag. (In case one might not have deduced, I am irrationally afraid of grasshoppers. And I am not too fond of their cousins, the crickets, either). After missing 3 times with a changing pad, a diaper wallet, and a diaper, I reluctantly moved to plan B.

Plan B consisted of a very sophisticated plan: avoidance. I opened the OTHER side of the van and the boys got in. If I had been thinking clearly, and was not so paralyzed with fear, I would have climbed in their side myself, and buckled Annie in that way and climbed over the seats... but instead, I hit the automatic door button and watched in horror (poised to flee) as the door slid open slowly...and the grasshopper stubbornly clung to its post on my door. As though I was preparing to run the gauntlet, I shifted my weight forward, then back... timing my lunge for the door. With a burst of adrenaline, I dove for the car seat base, dropped Annie in, and skittered back. The grasshopper hadn't budged. I climbed into the driver's seat, and clicked the automatic door button to watch the door slide shut. In my rear view mirror, I eyed the grasshopper with disgust and loathing. I adjusted it, ever so slightly for a better view, and started the car.

As I pulled out of the parking lot I kept my eye on the beastly thing, and to my chagrin, he still held fast to the door. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor (screeching my tires embarrassingly in the Hobby Lobby parking lot... and the grasshopper slowly began to CLIMB the door. He settled into the crease between the window and the door, as if bracing himself for the ride.

At this point I called Kevin to complain. I had decided to take a longer route home to give the thing more time to remove himself. Annie is screaming in the backseat because she is starving, but I figure she can wait a few more minutes... Kevin gallantly offers for me to come by the office, and he will come out and shoo away the object of my insanity, but if I am going to play the role of damsel in distress, I am determined that it will not be over a bug. At least it should be some sort of car problem, like a flat tire, or a dead battery.

In a last ditch effort, I pull onto 249 after weaving my way unsuccessfully through "Old Town" Tomball. I had thought I might lose it on Zion, since it chose that road to bravely climb up the window to the top of the van. But, alas... it just enjoyed the view for 1/2 a mile and began a descent... On 249, I gunned it, thinking to myself that a police officer might be understanding if, while he sauntered to my window to give me a citation, the grasshopper chose that moment to leap onto his sunglasses. When I hit 70, I saw the grasshopper flounder... my heart surged with hope, and as the speedometer crept past 80, it lost its footing completely, and disappeared from my rear view mirror.

Triumphant, I slowed to the speed limit (thanked God that a cop hadn't been around for my phobia-induced speeding), and turned into my neighborhood.