Guest post by: Linda Hulsey Anderson ~ Linda and I went to school together and although she doesn’t have a blog , I always enjoy her humor.
We really did trust Sven, our youngest of five, during his growing up years, and believed almost everything he said. Really we did.
Like that time we were leaving church and Sven had reached the age of being able to say about eight words…hi, bye-bye, and the names of all members of his immediate family. We really did believe him on that day when he repeatedly said, “Bye-bye, Kyle,” as he waved out the back window of the minivan. This is why we proceeded to tell him to sit still and be quiet as we drove all the way home. And, if we didn’t believe him then, we certainly did believe him when we arrived home and counted only 4 out of 5 kids in the car, and immediately drove back to church to get Kyle, because we believed Sven when he was waving bye-bye.
Disclaimer: home was only 1 block away, and Kyle was safe and sound with the kind Pastor’s wife watching over him. Thanks, Cheryl.
Oh, there also was that time when he was 5 years old and took his first plane ride, from Chicago to Connecticut, and shortly after take-off began exclaiming loudly, “We’re going down!” Yes, we really did give credit to Sven’s words. Really we did.
Which is why it took us 5 days to discover….the bat. Yes, a real flying possibly rabies-ridden, people-hating bat, living in our downstairs where children slept and played. The outdoors had come indoors to visit the Andersons in Connecticut.
Day 1: “Mom, there’s something big that keeps flying by my head when I’m playing video games downstairs.”
Yes, I believed that so much that I said something to the effect of, “That’s nice dear, what game are you playing?”
Days 2-3: “Mom, that big thing is still there flying by my head downstairs.”
Yes, I began to believe…that maybe there might be a butterfly or large moth, which I did not care to deal with… so I began to attempt to appease, “Well, dear, how big is it?”
“It’s like THIS BIG.’”
“That’s nice dear, what game are you playing?”
Day 4: “Tim, there’s something big flying by my head downstairs.”
Now, when I said, “We really did trust Sven,” that counted everybody, including siblings like Tim. However, Tim did go so far as going downstairs with a broom, just in case. Upon seeing nothing right away…..end of discussion.
Late night, Day 5: “I TOLD you something big was flying by my head downstairs!”
That’s right. Sven felt vindicated. When the “something big,” flew by TIM’s head while he was sleeping, Sven’s words finally got the credit they deserved. When Tim said it, we believed, and the entire house went on alert. Well almost the entire house. Now the story of my Eventual Hero.
There was indeed something big downstairs. Something big, and scary, and possibly ready to hate anyone of us. Something told me it wouldn’t be choosy.
Mark (my husband) and I immediately ran downstairs, quickly followed by the rest of the kids. Soon, we saw a bat, that appeared less than happy, make several quick swoops back and forth across the entire length of the downstairs. In what seemed like an instant I looked around and saw that there remained only Tim and I downstairs, and the bat was now silent. Yes, that’s right, I think Mark went upstairs with the rest of the kids to regroup?
The rest of the events happened very quickly. I can’t remember if it was Tim or I who found the claws of the bat hanging from behind the clock on the wall above the fireplace. I can’t remember whose idea it was to use the white mesh laundry hamper as a net, and a piece of plywood as the net cover. I don’t even know who held the net or who lifted the clock or who placed the plywood on as the cover, or who it was doing all that screaming. I do know that it was only me, Tim and the bat in this battle.
Tim, me and the bat. That is, until said bat was out in the middle of the backyard, stuck inside a white mesh laundry hamper, and quite angry at the events of the past few minutes. As Tim and I ran back indoors in a panic and with no plans whatsoever of how to finish the job, in came our Eventual Hero.
Yes, it’s true, a regrouped Mark walked right up to that bat-filled laundry hamper and freed “Count Who Believes Sven Now” into the darkness. My hero. Seriously. I was terrified beyond measure at that angry bat that had now been trapped in our net. As far I was concerned at that moment, he could just find his own way out of there. Or stay. I didn’t really care.
I believe Sven more now. We all do.
P.S. I never referred to Sven as “dear,” when speaking to him, EVER. It just seemed to sound better in the story.
P.P.S. Sven goes off to college in the fall. And then there were…me and my Eventual Hero. Hoping for no bats. Thank you Jody for this opportunity to reminisce. 
