Image WHAT’S BUGGING YOU

(Camel Comment:  Wedwandering back to 1994 for this one from the classic collection.)

Mid May marks the midpoint of spring.   Ah, spring, robins chirping, flowers blooming, and bugs.  Insects or the relative lack of them outdoors is one of the good things about winter.

I, like many men across America, am the “Official Bug/Insect Eradicator” of the household.  (OBIE for short.)  I am neither fond of the title nor do I relish the duties that come with it.  Sometimes it’s ugly. 

 This duty was more or less bestowed on me by my spouse and my continued status as OBIE is periodically reaffirmed when I hear her call my name in a somewhat shaky voice.  This is immediately followed by a frantic, “Come here” (pronounce the HERE with a slightly higher inflection.) 

 By then, I have deduced that another spider sighting has been made and the OBIE is being called to the rescue.  (Not to be confused with Obi-Wan, since I have yet to be able to use “the force” to take care of a creepy-crawly critter.) 

 We cannot officially announce that a bug or spider has actually been spotted or our three year old daughter will simply freak out.  At the “come here” beckon in that anxious voice, I grab a handy weapon (usually a rolled up newspaper) and tell our girl I have some reading to catch up on in the other room. 

 Sometimes that works.  Sometimes she follows and having spotted the spider will frantically cry out herself and shriek as she points to the spot where the soon to be squashed bug lurks.  After it goes to that bug heaven, a victim of “shock and awe”,  I am often asked to show the poor insect’s remains to my daughter as proof that it has passed to that great spider web in the sky.  

 It was in the spring of 1994.  My eldest daughter was nearly three.

 One day, we were bike riding.  Well, she was riding her tricycle and I was walking beside her.  We had gone about a block on this lovely Spring Sunday when she suddenly stopped, trembled mildly, and pointed.

 When I asked the source of her fear, she simply continued to point in front of her saying, “There daddy.”  She quickly dismounted her trike and ran to me, arms extended as if to save her from the pit o bugs.

 Cautiously, I looked to where she pointed expecting to see a swirling mass of insects, but instead, a good ten feet in front of her was a single solitary ant crawling along the concrete.  TEN FEET AWAY.  Bike riding for the day was over as was any further outdoor activity. Teary eyed, I carried the tricycle and her home for the afternoon.

 Now if she stops bike riding, you know this is serious but one day this will pass, I am sure.  But then again, as I think of my wife’s shaky voice, maybe not.

 

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