We were all snuggled up in bed watching Thomas the Tank Engine for the zillionth time on the now lightening-fried-green-and-purple-television. The bedside lamp was the only other light in the house. I had my eyeglasses off and was staring lazily at the green and purple blobs I know to be train engines, chugging around on the screen.
Suddenly, I saw this rather large dark blob flap across the room, diving close to the bed and returning to ceiling level to flit around and come to rest on the window curtain. I said, "What was that?" My dear son, the apple of my eye, whom I adore with everything I have, claps his hands excitedly and bounces up and down while proclaiming, "It's a bat, mommy!" He has recently discovered the joy of bats flying at dusk, both at our house and out from the cracks in the siding at grandma and grandpa's house. It's a wonder of nature that he simply adores. I would too...outside of my bedroom. He obviously had no idea how absolutely freaked out this would make me...he thought it was simply wonderful.
I jumped from the bed, flipped on the overhead light, and squeaked, "A bat?!?!" Keep in mind, that I was only able to see amoebic shapes at this point, as I had not yet found my eyeglasses. (I will sometime have to tell you the stories of the mice and the ladybugs that have traumatized me as to all wildlife in my house.)
My husband snorted and said, "It's not a bat!" What it was...a huge moth type bug with a wingspan of about three or four inches. It's wings were really quite pretty, for being a creature of the night and all.
So, having an obsession with all things that fly, I asked my dear husband (who was approaching with baby wipe in hand, presumably to squash this thing flat on my white curtain sheers...boo hiss) to get a cup and capture this renegade winged creature and return it to the great outdoors. Now this sounds like a simple task. Until you find out that this creepy crawly has some sort of jet-powered engine hidden under its massive wingspan and can flit and flap around at the speed of light.
Poor Steve became increasingly surly as Sam and I laughed and laughed at his antics running around the room, moving furniture, and trying to capture this thing in a cup. (I think it was the whole hunter-gatherer thing in action.) I found my eyeglasses and was able to participate in the hunt with the oh-so-helpful, "It's over there...now it's over there...no...now it's over there." It's a wonder Steve didn't bean me with the cup he was using to try to corral this thing (it was big enough, you probably could have put a small saddle on it). And Sam was additionally helpful in his clapping and laughing and jumping up and down on the bed during the chase. It was such fun to watch him...his pure joy and simple laughter was contagious and made me laugh until I cried.
Then, of course, there were the foiled attempts to capture this thing when it flew into the bedroom overhead light and I was afraid it would burn its wings off on the lightbulbs, so I flipped off the light switch and it went in search of another source of warmth in the bedside light. I headed that direction to save this poor thing with the fragile jet-powered wings, but Steve looked at me with that look that said, "Touch it and die."
The adventure came to an end when mommy finally stopped laughing and took control. The flying creature was captured without incident and a cooperative effort resulted in it being returned to the wilds of northern Ohio.
A bat! I'm surprised I could sleep after that.