This weekend I made the long journey into Iowa in order to throw my sister a rockin’ baby shower. Okay, it wasn’t that rockin’, but there were all the makings of a successful baby shower: finger foods and petit fours, monkey-, frog- and baby chick-themed onesies, old friends and (I’m not too ashamed to admit) a little bit of happy tears. I think a good time was had by all. Or at least by the mommy-to-be, who is all that matters, don’t you know.

I drove out Friday night in order to squeeze in as much time as possible with my sister and her husband, aka Mr. and Mrs. G-pants, who are two of my most favorite people on the planet. As we were sitting around the dining room table, undoubtedly having a Very Insightful Conversation, we all sort of simultaneously noticed that there was a very frightened, very flappy, very adorable bat flying around in the house. Let me tell you, things went from zero to frantic awfully fast. My favorite parts were the bat’s increasingly frenzied — and ALARMINGLY silent — laps around their house, my seven-month pregnant sister repeatedly apologizing for not chasing the bat down bare-handed in between her (and my) shrieks every time the bat dive-bombed our heads, and Mr. G-pants tearing off his shirt and yelling “Calm down!” just before throwing himself flat on the floor when the bat suddenly reappeared in the TV room.  He very bravely chased the bat out of the house through an open window a few minutes later and everyone, bat included, resumed our peaceful evening.

On another topic, though not entirely unrelated to the title of this post, I think that watching Robin Williams on Inside the Actors Studio sounds like the worst possible way to spend the evening.