My son, the hero

Okay, you already know how this story ends. But I'm going to tell it anyway, because it's just too good to keep to myself.

This evening, as the kids and I were leaving the store, a woman approached me in the parking lot. She had been crying. "Can you help me, please," she asked. "I can't get into my car."

My first thought was to look around, and make sure that it wasn't some kind of a con. (Okay, I admit that I've been reading too many horror stories in the newspapers and online.) There wasn't anyone else around, so I figured we were safe. But if she was locked out of her car, there wasn't anything I could do to help her. Except maybe call a locksmith. I certainly wasn't going to break into a car.

She explained that the reason she couldn't get into her car was because she saw a big spider and she was afraid to get in. Being terrified of spiders, I totally understood her hysteria. I immediately offered my son's services. (He's used to hunting spiders, I assured her.)

PJ walked over to the car, and peered in the back window. "Wow! It is a big spider!"

I immediately backed away from the car. It was one thing for PJ to risk his life; as the mother, I feel it's important that I stay safe.

"Just kill it, please. You can use my shoe, but just kill it" the woman begged. PJ glanced at her tiny sandal, and decided that he would be better off using his own size 12 sneaker. He took off his shoe, and carefully opened the car door. Gingerly he reached in, careful not to startle the spider.

Suddenly he reached out and grabbed it. Foolishly he brought it over to show me. When I finally calmed down (I really, really hate spiders -- did I mention that yet?), I realized that he was holding a plastic toy spider.

It turns out that the woman had a young son, with a wicked sense of humor. I say "had" based on the dire punishments she was promising to mete out to him as she drove off.