Years ago we had a bat in the house. Of course it happened when my husband was out of town. My older boys were little and were first laughing as I screamed every time it swooped past me when I was trying to hit it. Their humor turned to fear as I could not stop screaming with each pass. It turned comical as I’d try to reassure my sobbing preschoolers, but would keep interrupting myself with a scream.
I finally hit it, pushed it out the door and beat it to death on the deck. I threw it and the broom into the dumpster and called the batproofers right then. I didn’t care what my frugal carpenter husband would say about being able to do it himself.
Would you have described yourself as bat $#!t crazy at that point?