Reposted from April of 2008. I read this now and laugh. Back then, however, it wasn’t quite so hilarious. I’m happy to report the E-man is no longer afraid of flies. Moths, on the other hand …

My toddler is terrified of flies.

Houseflies.

So this evening, when I heard the Scream of Terror, I knew — a fly must have gotten in.

The only other thing that elicits that kind of scream is a cat. The E-man had a few bad experiences with kitties in earlier years and hasn’t ever recovered. I’m not really a cat person, either, however, so I totally get this particular fear. I compare cats to premenstrual women — one minute they’re adoring and slathering in their affection and the next minute they’re swiping you with newly unsheathed claws. I have no patience for that. Only one PMSing creature per household, and that is ME, thankyouverymuch.

So — back to the flies.

The scream traveled from the living room to the kitchen, where I was cooking dinner. And then the E-man hurtled toward me. “Mommmmmmeeeeeee! A flyyyyyyyyy!”

Thus followed 30 minutes of sobbing. Each time he subsided, the fly would buzz by and the screaming started all over again. Finally, out of desperation — the kid wouldn’t touch his dinner — I pretended to kill the fly and dispose of its freaking carcass.

I am so diabolically clever.

Five minutes later, as a forkful of noodles was headed toward the E-man’s mouth, the fly rose from behind the couch with a loud buzz.

“WAAAAHHHHHHH!! MOMMEEEEEEE! THE FLY!!!!!”

Again, I chased it around the living room, thwacking my library book against walls and windows. I smashed the darn thing umpteen times. But. It. Would. Not. Die. At last, after much cussing and flailing, I killed it.

“Look, E.,” I said, holding out the paper towel. “It’s dead. No more fly.”

“Let me see,” his sister said, pushing forward.

After she peered into the folded paper towel, I headed toward the trash. Just as I approached — I kid you not — that freaking fly miraculously came back to life and buzzed upward.

I flew at it again, book still in hand, and this time, I flattened the little effer into nothingness.

By this point, however, the E-man was so distraught, he wouldn’t eat his dinner. So my efforts were in vain.

In other words, the fly won. Even in death.