Pamela Patchett, I think I have your kid.

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This morning, I was putzing in the kitchen when I heard a scream from upstairs.

"What happened?" I called out.

*no response*

"Cara?!!!" I began to head towards the stairs.

There was another scream, longer and even more piercing. I raced up the stairs, and threw open the door. Cara stood in the hall, doing a crazy hopping up and down thing but appeared to be unbloodied.
She grabbed me and pushed me in the room, shrieking, "Get in there! Get it! It's on my pillow! It's huge!"

And there it was. On her pillow was a spider. It was large, but it was substantially smaller than I had been led to believe. It was not as long as her arm.

She stood in the middle of floor screaming her head off as I went to the bathroom to grab a piece of tissue. "If this gets away, so. help. me! ...hurry! HURRY!!!!" I returned to the room, and plucked the spider from her pillow, and headed back to the bathroom as she helpfully continued to shriek. "Don't drop it! Don't lose it!" I opened the toilet, dropped the tissue in and flushed.

When I re-entered the hallway, she was standing at the door of her bedroom. "Did you flush it?"

"Yes," I said.

"Did you REALLY?"

And I said, "Yes, Cara."

She looked at her bed. "The pillow has to go. It's unfortunate, because it was a good pillow, but it's out of here. It's collateral damage."

I looked at her. "The pillow is fine."

"I can't sleep on the pillow."

"You'll be fine. Really."

I headed back downstairs. By the time that Tim got in, the thing had grown considerably, and made hissing noises as it reared up at her.

Pamela? Come and get your kid.