Warning: it gets kind of gory in paragraph 3.
I'm the girl who screams at the sight of a spider. I'm not brave or tough, nor do I care to be. That's what husbands are for... or so I thought, until our little family of three went out to do some landscaping on the side of our house this summer.
Me with my shovel and Monsoon with his dirt, we were set. Husband had to pull out the giant azalea bush - the one I killed last summer - as it was too big for me to rip from the ground. I was coaxing Monsoon to get his hands dirty when my husband flung the big ball of dead plant into the air. Along with bugs o'plenty, he saw something scurry up onto the top of the dirt and let out of a kind of man-squeal.
Que Super-Mommy adrenaline/protection mode. In one quick instant, without even thinking, I raised the shovel like a javelin and caught the critter spot on, chopping it completely in half. The poor mole never saw it coming.
My husband might be sleeping with one eye open now, but he doesn't worry about us when he isn't home. He just bought me a clean shovel to keep under the bed.
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