After work Tennisfiend and I spend quality time with Tyoma in “my” bedroom. Tyoma scrambles about, trying to stand or yank books from the shelves. One of us reads or works on the computer as the other one keeps an eye on Tyoma. Since the cricket infestation, we vigilantly vacuum up little cricket carcasses as they appear.
As I checked my email Tennisfiend called out a loud “STOP” (Russians say it with a hard O as in boat). To me he said, “Quick, he’s about to put an insect leg in his mouth. In a flash I was out of my seat and on the floor prying the leg out of his right hand. I heard another thunderous “STOP!” from Tennisfiend. “The other hand! The other hand!”
Our jolly baby, much amused by the commotion, was laughing as he attempted to stuff the contents of his left hand in his mouth. As I pulled his hand from his mouth I got a glimpse of his intended snack and screamed. A juicy, thumb-sized wolf spider quivered its last. My scream startled Tyoma and annoyed Tennisfiend, who scooped the crying baby off the floor with a theatrical “Gospedi!” (Oh Lord!)