Fly Killer

I’ve created a killer, a fly killer, that is. A few weeks ago, in the natural course of an energetic four-year running in and out, a quick thinking fly managed to breach our inner sanctum. Quick thinking yes, but maybe not so quick moving. After my own thwarted attempts at swatting the little pest, the grandson begged me to let him try. 

So I handed over the white fly swatter. And what do ya know? Deadeye managed to do in a few well-aimed swats, what Grandma had not. He killed that darn fly. 

 “I’m really quick, right Maw?” 

 “Yes, you are.” 

 “You couldn’t get him, could you Maw?”

 “Nope, I could not.” 

 “We don’t like flies, do we Maw?”

 “No, we do not.” 

 “Hey, are you goin’ to tell PaPa Al, that I’m quick?” 

 “Yes, I am.” 

 A few weeks later, when one of the deceased fly’s buddies made it in through the opened screen door, the grandson was not pleased when I managed to shoo the fly back outside. 

 “But, I wanted to kill him,” grumped the peanut gallery. 

 My explanation of a win-win philosophy was lost on a four-year old who thought I was just mucking up his chance at another fly victory. Later, as we played outside, the little guy got his chance when a hapless fly landed on one of our outside toys. Deadeye, took aim, and swatted the fly with his BARE hands, and put another notch in his fly killing belt. After a brief discussion about why it was good policy to wash one’s hands after such a heroic act, I made one of my usual breezy pronouncements. 

 “Hey, I’m going to have to start calling you Fly Killer. Yep, I’m going to call you, Fly Killer Snyder.” 

 Silence, as the two of us walked the length of the stone driveway.

 Then, “Its okay, Maw. You can call me Fly Killer if you want.” 

 A few more steps, a quick kick of the stones, and then my buddy looked straight up at me and said, 

“I kinda like that name.” 

 Glad to oblige, kiddo. Glad to oblige.

© 6 October 2008, Desktop Genealogist Unplugged, Teresa L. Snyder