Summer always seems to pass so quickly. This year, it was mild and beautiful. I loved it. My plants loved it.
Bees loved it.
But other things did, too. I started seeing a LOT of grasshoppers. On my plants.
On chairs.
On the tree house.
Everywhere.
Take multiple bugs. Add one kid who is kinda bored. What do you get? Accomplices.
They came in with that 'I have a wonderful surprise for you, Mom' look and plopped this down on the counter.
I pasted on my best 'Wow, that is the coolest thing I've ever seen' look, and let them talk. Wisely, I withheld the thought that I am a girl, my skin is crawling, this has to be violating some animal rights law somewhere, and that is sitting on the counter where I prepare food. And I had to quickly remind myself that these are kids, and life is an adventure. Let them have their adventure . . . for five more seconds.
I made it.
Then I explained about how happy those grasshoppers are to see them, but how much happier they'll be back in nature.
So my kind-hearted son grabbed the jar and headed for the door.
And then I heard a crash. You know those sighs that you never mean to have, but they just come, and they last forever? Well, I had one. Then I hollered for him not to move and step in the broken glass, and hopefully not-broken grasshoppers. I grabbed the broom. I grabbed the camera. And well, this is what you get.
Yup. You are my witness. No broken grasshoppers. They seem mighty hoppy - sorry - happy just hanging out on my door step. And door post. And door mat.
And (sorry about all the 'ands') when we're done sweeping up the mess, we might just join them.
Bees loved it.
But other things did, too. I started seeing a LOT of grasshoppers. On my plants.
On chairs.
On the tree house.
Everywhere.
Take multiple bugs. Add one kid who is kinda bored. What do you get? Accomplices.
They came in with that 'I have a wonderful surprise for you, Mom' look and plopped this down on the counter.
I pasted on my best 'Wow, that is the coolest thing I've ever seen' look, and let them talk. Wisely, I withheld the thought that I am a girl, my skin is crawling, this has to be violating some animal rights law somewhere, and that is sitting on the counter where I prepare food. And I had to quickly remind myself that these are kids, and life is an adventure. Let them have their adventure . . . for five more seconds.
I made it.
Then I explained about how happy those grasshoppers are to see them, but how much happier they'll be back in nature.
So my kind-hearted son grabbed the jar and headed for the door.
And then I heard a crash. You know those sighs that you never mean to have, but they just come, and they last forever? Well, I had one. Then I hollered for him not to move and step in the broken glass, and hopefully not-broken grasshoppers. I grabbed the broom. I grabbed the camera. And well, this is what you get.
Yup. You are my witness. No broken grasshoppers. They seem mighty hoppy - sorry - happy just hanging out on my door step. And door post. And door mat.
And (sorry about all the 'ands') when we're done sweeping up the mess, we might just join them.
