Bats Don’t Read

“Someone bring me broom, I just saw something moving by the bed.  It might be a …”
Then the lights went out.

It sounds like a scene from a poorly crafted movie, but it’s just our life. 
As quick as the lights went out, they came back on.  Running out of the bedroom we waited on Eric to identify whatever it was while we lit candles.   The verdict?

A bat.
Lights out.   Again.  This time they stayed out.
We were able to make out the silhouette of something moving through the air.  Recalling what I had read, I instructed the children to stand still, the bat would see us using its echo-location and navigate around us.

We stood.

I read it, after all.

Well, bats don’t read.
It just so happened that this bat thought a large immobile stucture would make a good perch and he clung on to my arm.
Screaming and flailing ensued.
The lights came back on in time for Eric to make a baseball like swing at Mr. Bat.

Poor thing.  He didn’t bite me, he just needed a rest.
Unconscious, the bat was taken outside, where he later came to his senses and flew away.

I can now add bat perch to my resume.