TEASER

„Have you fed Fluffy yet, Caleb?" – Asked Benedict his middle child, as they were sitting around the table, having breakfast. It was one of the rare occasions when the whole family could eat together, as Benedict – leader of MI6 now – only needed to be in Headquarters at 10 AM that day. It happened occasionally… maybe every ten months or so… that he could have a relaxed morning with his wife and children, so he had decided to enjoy it to the fullest.

"Not yet, dad. I'm gonna do it after breakfast." – Shrugged the 8-year-old boy. He loved his small pet dearly but – being as giddy as everyone else at that age – he sometimes forgot to take care of it. That had been Benedict's original purpose when with allowing the little one to have an own pet (aside from scaring James Bond to death with it of course…): to teach the child to take his responsibilities more seriously.

"Just don't forget it, please. Last time you didn't change its water for three days. If I hadn't done it for you, the poor thing would have dried out by now." – Reminded Benedict. While he had known from the very beginning he'd have to take care of the eight-legged creature himself (not to mention Confetti and Pixel, their two cats), he still hoped he could get his son to help him more. It wasn't as if he didn't have enough on his plate without extra tasks.

"Yes, dad."

Annabel, like always, made a face at the mention of the spider.

"Remind me again, just for the record: why do we feed and keep as a pet an animal that everyone else would like nothing more than to get rid of?"

"Because it's my best friend!" – Declared Caleb proudly.

"And then why don't we take in all the other spiders, Cal? There is one in the toilet upstairs right now. I don't see anyone running to adopt it. Still, it's quite content there. It even looks fat, so I guess it can feed itself just fine." – Inquired Isabell, who, much like her mother, couldn't for the life of her understand why anyone would like to have a spider as a pet.

"Because it's an araneus, not a tarantula, silly. Everyone knows that." – Piped up six-year-old Lucas, not even looking up from his bowl of cereal. – "Originally called epeira. While the tarantula belongs to the family of the theraphosidae"

Everyone but Benedict looked at him with clear confusion on their faces.

"It's a what, Luke dear?" – Asked Annabel, by now used to sudden, eccentric declarations like this one of her youngest. The little one was just like his father in many ways and thus most of the time only Benedict was able to completely understand what he talked about.

So, not at all surprisingly, it was Benedict who answered the question, albeit a bit tiredly.

"An orb-weaver spider, Bel." – At her incredulous expression, he added as an explanation. – "A common spider you'd find in the garden any time."

Annabel raised an eyebrow mischievously.

"So, it doesn't have to be fed and cared for then because it's common!?" – She challenged.

"I didn't say that…"

"Yes, you just did."

"You really did, dad." – Added Isabell, nodding her head in agreement with her mother.

Typical that the girls would gang up on him!

"Thanks for the support, Isy." – Well, but the men still outnumbered the women in this family! Perhaps, he could use that to his advantage… – "Caleb? Did I say that? Cal…? Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm going to get that spider from the toilet and introduce it to Fluffy. I'm sure they'll be happy to have company."

"Oh, buddy, I think your tarantula would be most happy to eat it, not make acquaintance with it…"

His older son seemed to think about it for a moment before answering:

"Well, then it's fine. You told me to feed Fluffy anyway." – With that, he left the kitchen and proceeded to walk up the stairs, not caring to back up his father in any way in the argument.

Benedict turned to his last hope. They could still be evenly matched after all…

"Luke?"

The little one just finished fishing out all the cereal letters from his bowl needed to form the names of his entire family on the tray. The once crispy pieces were now totally drenched and dripped milk all over the table.

"Ahm… sorry, dad, what did you say?"

"I asked if you think I offended any type of spiders or any other species for that matter with my statement?"

"Hm… I don't know, dad. Which statement do you mean? I wasn't paying attention very much; you know, if it's something with eight limbs, I prefer octopuses to spiders."

With that the little boy was already lost in his own world again, as he started a one-sided game of scrabble with his wet cereals and didn't pay attention to his parents at all anymore.

Isabell was by now reading her favorite book (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) probably for the hundredth time in a row. Benedict didn't understand it: she was a genius, for God's sake, she should know it by heart after the second time reading it! Anyway, she clearly considered the matter closed as well.

Caleb was still upstairs trying to make two completely distinct types of spiders become best friends.

Annabel was looking at her husband smugly, as if saying: 'you really thought you could win this one?'

Benedict sighed and stood up to wash the dishes. At times like that he really couldn't decide which of his recurring tasks was more difficult: leading the whole MI6 through fire and ice, fighting every hindrance along the way, or trying to reason with members of his family and just once in his life emerge in an argument the victor.

He strongly suspected that, while he had been dealing with the former quite successfully for years, the latter seemed completely impossible to achieve.