So last night, there was something on the floor and I thought it was an olive. (We had a Greek salad for dinner and sometimes my food leaves the plate and ends up on the carpet instead of in my mouth).
So, very confidently I grabbed a tissue and went to pick it up. As soon as I touched it, I shrieked. The olive was alive, had legs, was moving and wasn't very olive-y at all!
Meanwhile J is in hysterics because he knew it was a beetle or bug or some sort of horrible insect but enjoyed seeing me so convinced that it was an olive that had traveled from the kitchen, gone around a corner and ended up just outside the bedroom. (What? Olives roll around, they can travel long distances if they're fit and willing.)
I don't think I will be eating olives for a while.
Boys are mean.