I don’t really like bugs. In fact, I don’t like to look at lobster in tanks in grocery stores because they are giant water bugs. Eew.
And crabs? Just ocean spiders. Nasty.
I’m not a fan of bugs.
Sometimes God sends things we don’t like.
If there is a cricket idol – and for reasons that will soon become apparent, I strongly believe there is – then the mid-west regional auditions are being held in my basement. Someone told the performance obsessed members of the larger cricket community that the best acoustics in all of St. Louis can be found in my floor drain and they’ve been flooding in to test it out. Of course, crickets prefer to perform at night when they are guaranteed a captive audience. At first we tried to be humane, capturing the little performers and relocating them to their natural habitat; but just as one soon grows tired of the narcissistic auditions in Idol, we soon grew exhausted. Period. Just tired because crickets were, in the mackerdoodle’s words, “cricketing and cricketing all night.” We’ve become ruthless, slaughtering the hopping harmonizers at the first sight of their jumpy little exoskeletons. Our basement has become the cricket killing fields with scenes that will, I’m sure, be reproduced soon on CSI:cricket. The mackerdoodle prays at night, “and please let there not be crickets.” I amen her prayer heartily.
Still. It could be worse than crickets.
A lot worse.
As in “Mama, my head is itchy.”
We spent Sunday evening going over everyone’s heads with a fine toothed comb – literally – and a strong smelling creme rinse. Then came the really humiliating part: emailing anyone who had contact with the family to say “You might want to check your kids heads.” Ungh. Do you know what it’s like to receive a “your child may have been exposed to lice” email from church and know that you are the reason it’s been sent? Parent FAIL!
In irony of ironies, the woman who hates to do laundry has spent two days washing in hot water everything that could have possibly touched anyone’s head.
And scratching a lot. It’s funny that no one except the mackerdoodle was itchy until we started talking bugs in hair and then we were all scratching. I bet you’re scratching your head right now. The frustrating part is that we have no idea how she got them to begin with. We don’t go anywhere. Maybe it’s the crickets.
So all in all, while I should be blogging about the snickerdoodle’s first tooth (she’s only 4 months old!) or her rolling across the floor to find the mackerdoodle late last week (again – only 4 months old!) I find myself blogging about bugs.
One day these will be funny stories. Not today.