Wednesday, February 20, 2013
To the Ladybug Who Entered My House
Because we haven't seen the likes of your kind for quite some time, you created quite an uproar with our children yesterday. I'm uncertain about your specific anatomical workings, but if your antenna are even remotely sensitive, you likely heard that uproar.
From the seven-year-old: "Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom -- there's a ladybug! A ladybug! It's a ladybug!"
From the four-year-old: "Come here, you little ladybug. You're so cute! I'll hold you."
From the two-year-old: "Bug. Bug. Bug. Bug! BUG!"
Your delicate ladybug wings momentarily fluttered, as if you were poised to dart toward freedom, yet you held your ground.
This was a tactical error.
They crowded you, poked at you, and attempted to pet you. Only then did you fly. I'm not sure how you managed it, but you swooped directly into the seven-year-old's open mouth. (Another tactical error, but I get it: you were confused. They confuse me sometimes, too.)
She spit you out and began a strange, contorted dance that resembled someone walking on hot coals while gargling. It was at this point that I seized my opportunity: I rescued you, carried you to the sliding glass door, and gently flicked you from my palm into the great outdoors.
It wasn't even thirty degrees outside, but I hope you understand my reasoning: I simply thought you'd be safer.
Stay warm, little ladybug, stay warm.
Photo compliments of Flickr.com (Reinhold Stansich)
Read more posts like this: Just for Fun