There is nothing quite like boys and bugs.
When Conner was two, he found a dead bumble bee on our back steps. He thought that it was sleeping, so he went and got him a little blanket. When the poor little bumble bee didn’t wake up, he thought maybe he was thirst, so he got a cup, filled it with water, and poured it all over the little bee, and then covered him back up with his little blanket. He wasn’t a big talker, but we understood and watched the whole thing. At nap time, we carefully helped the baby bumble bee to ‘fly away.’ We were so proud of his compassion, and he was so proud that he had found and helped the little bee. The depth of his sweet,thoughtful actions did not miss our gaze or our encouragement.
He has gone onto capture countless lady bugs (which he used to call butterflies), and even let a snail or two crawl on his hand. Last summer he found a dragonfly in the swimming pool. We carefully fished him out, though when he finally dried off, he flew right into my face and land back in the pool again.
I think that one of the funnest things about having boys is how much time they will spend carefully bending over some little ant or rolly polly, or if they are really lucky a praying mantis. They watch so quietly capturing each move, each little detail, until it turns and crawls, walks, slithers or hops their way, and then they run with all the furry in the world, laughing with squeamish uncertainty, endlessly relaying stories about how a worm “all most got me!” Oh I cannot wait until winter is passed and it is bug-watching time again!
