"Take the girl, go into the bedroom and close the door."
Those are words you hear in a tense thriller movie and most normal people don't get to say them too often. Well, I can proudly say that those words were delivered by me on Friday night. Nothing like coming home from a delightful trip to Snookie's for ice cream, only to have an indoor bat visitor turn your family into a bunch of screaming, crying lunatics (I was in the screaming group, not the crying one.) And I was amazed at how much larger a bat looks when it is flying at you in your living room, as opposed to thirty or forty feet above you in the trees. (Isa said she thought it was a hawk.)
His shiftly, unpredictable flying style left me swinging at air a few times with the tennis racket, but eventually I took him down and pinned him to the ground under the racket. At this point I called Sylvia out to assist. I wasn't sure if he was dead as he hadn't moved, so I wiggeled the racket a little. It squeaked out its bat noise, we both screamed, and I bopped it solidly on the head several times with the other tennis racket. And that ended that.
That night all three of us slept together with the door closed.
Rest assured though, we have a bat exclusion expert scheduled for this week.
Sidenote: Isa later asked if we could keep the bat (it was in the freezer) until Halloween and use it as a decoration to scare people.