On being chosen, woven.

My five year old isn’t afraid of anything, except spiders.  Lately, when he sees even the tiniest one making her way (for ease, all spiders are ‘she’ in our family) from one dusty corner to another, he makes this hilarious sound somewhere between a scream and a moan - corners of his mouth turned down, eyes going wide and rigid (think Peewee Hermann). It…