I could barely make it out in the gloom but it was the size of a small plate and at least four of its eyes had a glint
old said flatly: “There’s a spider in the car, isn’t there.”
I’d never seen my children move faster — until two minutes later when I used a lunch box in a one-shot manoeuvre to flick the huntsman out of the door. We heard its footsteps as it scuttled away.
Huddled together, three little faces peered at me with new-found awe. For a brief, glorious moment I was not the nagging drone who gets their dinners and finds their shoes but had become Mother, Vanquisher of Arachnids. It was worth it.