Last night I am sitting in our kitchen while Tayler is making lunches. Out of the corner of my eye I see something flying. I think it is a bird. I start screaming at the top of my lungs and run into the bedroom. My heart is pounding. At this point I know it isn't a bird, but a bat. The house gets very quiet. Then I hear a sound I can't pinpoint. It sounds like something bouncing. I call out to Tayler. The bat had attached himself to the ceiling in our living room - our 24 foot high ceiling. So Tayler had taken a tennis ball and was trying to bounce it and hit the bat. He is unsuccessful.
Next, he comes in our bedroom and asks me if he should kill the bat. Um, no, I think we should just live with a bat in our house. YES! KILL THE FREAKING BAT! ARE YOU CRAZY!
Tayler goes into the garage and gets his pole saw (you know, a big pole with a saw on the end of it, meant for cutting down trees?). I hear him from the bedroom attempting to "saw" the bat on the ceiling. Then I hear a thud. I call out Tayler's name and he doesn't respond. For a split second I think that he may be hurt but I am unwilling to leave my safe place in the bedroom to check on him. Finally he answers.
And he says, "I think the bat is gone." Yes, you read that right. "I think the bat is gone." Um, not good enough, GO MAKE SURE!!!!!
Five minutes later, the door to the bedroom swings open. Tayler is holding a plastic yellow cup upside down on a piece of cardboard. Inside is the bat (still alive) that was upstairs, near our sleeping children. Tayler has me open the front door for him so he can release the bat back into the wild. And so the evening goes back to normal. But now we can never again say that we haven't had a bat in our house.
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