Witches brew

The middle kid, Olivia, got bit by a spider about a week ago. It got her right on the neck, and the bite swelled up like a walnut, which is a pretty big, considering Olivia's neck is only the size of an orange, or maybe a grapefruit.

She had to go to the doctor.

"If it turns black," she said of the bite, "I have to go back and they'll scrape it."

She used a tone of resignation like a convict ready for the electric chair.

The doc put her on an antibiotic and Olivia took the stuff religiously. There was no way she was going to go back to the doctor and have anything scraped. Especially her sweet little neck.

She handed me the big pink bottle and a little syringe and then opened her mouth wide.

"I have to take one teaspoon four times a day for 10 days," she said.

I filled the syringe to the teaspoon mark and squirted it in her throat.

Bad spider. Bad.

At first I figured she picked the spider up in the house. The basement used to be Spiderville, but this summer there aren't any. I think that's because we poisoned the ants, and when we poisoned the ants it poisoned the spiders.

Such is life.

Olivia doesn't spend much time in the basement anyway. She sleeps in a pink room with two parakeets, Sky and Cloud.

No spiders allowed.

But none of my kids are afraid of the usual Witches Brew that drives a lot of people wild. They all can handle spiders and ants and worms and snakes and frogs and toads. Spiders simply get squished. The rest of the creepy crawlies require a thorough examination.

The other day Boy Wonder and I were fishing, and I turned around to see where he was and there he was with a small water snake in hand.

He eyed the snake and the snake eyed him and their lips nearly touched.

That's the sort of thing that gives most kids the heebeegeebies in a big way.

"Put it down," I told him. "Be nice to the snake. He's not bothering anybody."

He obliged. Good thing there's no rattlers in Glacier.

The snake slithered off.

Olivia went to camp "Wolf Pup" this weekend up at Big Creek with the Glacier Institute. She said she learned how to track animals, and they found a dead deer carcass that "was probably killed by a mountain lion."

When camp started, she jumped out of the car and immediately found a toad and became vastly admired by her peers, boys and girls alike. Later on in the weekend, she caught another one as well, elevating her 9-year-old hands to queen-like status.

They gave her an award for amphibian prowess. It's a construction paper cutout of a toad that says, "Olivia, best toad catcher."

What more could a father ask for?