"Phillip, what in the world are you doing?!?"
He looks up at me with a look of determination. "There's a fly in here and it keeps attacking us. I am trying to get it."
I looked at Violet, assuming it had landed on her head and Phillip was aiming at it and not at our daughter. She looked back at me all doe-eyed and a little pouty, like "Did you just see that??"
Well, Phillip was right - this fly was seriously on a mission to attack, because as I stood there it went
right at my head.
I did a weird, uncoordinated flapping movement, almost like a marionette whose strings were just jerked.
"Did you get it?" Phillip asked.
"Yeah, that technique is very effective in catching flies," I answered mildly.
But my anti-fly-ninja-moves must have spooked him because he disappeared then for a little while, until...
He attacked Violet. I mean really, truly attacked her. He kept flying at her face as she sat there trying to eat her breakfast.
"Daaaddyyyy!" she wailed, covering her face with her hand, while the fly boldly crawled on her hand.
Phillip took a swing at it with his bare hand, missing the fly completely ... and landing a slap to Violet's hand.
He grabbed the rolled up newspaper and stalked around the kitchen, still looking for the fly. "I shouldn't have put this down. I'm just going to keep it with me."
"Forget it," I said. "Just leave the fly alone before you kill our poor daughter."
And this is how we started our day.