I have once again done battle with pitiless nature and emerged victorious:
I was wheeling the trashcan back into place behind the bamboo thicket when I noticed a large brown lizard on the porch column, directly at eye level with me. The girls were on the porch. I called to them, "Hey look," and tapped the column near the lizard, hoping it would scurry up into their line of sight.
It did not scurry. It leapt.
It hurled itself straight out from the column, towards me (for a fraction of a second, I stared directly into its rapidly approaching eyes), and landed on my neck.
But its Leaping-Lizard fighting style was no match for my Shriek-Like-a-Girl-and-Flail-Wildly technique. I shrieked like a girl and flailed wildly. In a moment, the lizard was vanquished from my neck.
"Look," Louise said, "Daddy's got a lizard on his back."
Another round of frantic flailing fully routed my foe. It leapt again, this time from my back to a nearby bush, and scurried deep into the foliage (followed with great interest by Delilah).
Boo-yeah! Leaping lizards, indeed. Now my girls know a small brown reptile can never harm them—not as long as Daddy Lord of Lizards is there to defend them.