“Dad! Where’s my pet spider?”
“What, now?”
“My friend. He was right there before you came downstairs.”
I suspected their ‘friendship’ hadn’t been long-lasting.
“Did he have a name, son?”
“Friendy.”
Oh, dear. I wished his Mum were there to help. She had been the expert in this type of thing.
“Well, like all spiders, Friendy liked swimming, so I took him to the spider pool in the bathroom.”
“Who says spiders like swimming?”
“Incy Wincy does, for starters. Lives for it. Anyway, that’s where he is now, having a good splash about.”