Boys. Parenting them is certainly not for the faint of heart. Over the years, we have watched them cover themselves in mud for no apparent reason. We have seen them chase birds across the yard, throw rocks at the sky and work tediously to bore a complicated system of tunnels under the fence.
Then there are the snakes, the toads and the bugs. Things that creep, crawl and bite seemed to make their way into the hearts of our little humans. Although we became accustomed to the fact that frog legs could and would turn up anywhere, it is one of the reasons I did not search pockets before throwing gym shorts into the wash.
All mothers of boys must endure. All of us, that is, except my sister, Patti. For whatever reason, her boys never had much interest in housing rodents or boarding bumblebees. They never built little houses for rats; had Best Pet contests for beetles; or proclaimed a field mouse to be, and I quote, the “bomb-diggity.”
It is not fair that a woman such as Patti would raise boys and never, ever have one of them show up in the kitchen with a dead garter snake with great hopes that it could be a family pet.
Therefore, you can imagine Patti’s dismay when the class assignments involved bug collections.
To say that dear sister of mine has a fear of bugs would be an understatement. She runs from houseflies; screams at the sight of a spider; and once, when she laid eyes on our Little Charlie’s fuzzy caterpillar container, I thought we would have to sedate her.
She has been through these bug collections before, and it certainly isn’t easy on her. But, being the loving sister I am, I do what I can. I have searched for katydids, kept on the lookout for locusts and have combed the perimeter for barn weevils.
So, with Little Jonny’s bug collection looming on the horizon, I have been at the ready with containers and nets.
Any amateur with an ounce of ambition can capture a housefly or a wolf spider. It takes barely an effort to pull a tick off the dog or to corner a cricket. I challenge myself to do the best I can for that darling nephew of mine and have been known to collect everything from lubber grasshoppers to oversized beetles.
You can imagine how happy I was, just the other day, to round a corner and see none other than a large praying mantis. Oh, how beautiful she was. She was large and in charge, with nary a flaw.
With great enthusiasm, I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a butter container and then raced back to capture that magnificent creature.
I could have given the little thing an acetone cocktail and readied her for the eternal stay in a large bug-filled display box, but that would have been too nice and we just couldn’t have that.
After all, Patti has been known to skip out on the dinner dishes, not to mention the times she pulled my hair.
Instead, I wrote “Praying Mantis” on the container and waited for Patti’s visit later in the day. With the sort of delight that only a sibling gets when picking on another, I approached Patti with a sinister smile.
“You’ll never guess what I caught for Jon,” I said as I drew near. “Open the car door, and I’ll place this securely into your backseat.” Then I lifted the lid ever so slightly so that Patti might take a gander.
“We don’t do bugs,” Patti said matter-of-factly, as if stating it made it so.
“We have to take it home,” Jonny insisted when he saw the look on his mother’s face. “I’ll take real good care of it, I promise!”
Taking care of it wasn’t of any concern to Patti. The imminent demise of a praying mantis wasn’t causing her heart to race. It was the thought of having real, live insects in her care that made her want to throw up.
“Jonny, how about if we do the bug collection at Aunt Lori’s house and I’ll bring you to visit every day?”
“But he’ll take good care of them,” I said as I reiterated the little guy’s own words. I then put a hand on Jonny’s shoulder for support before I added, “He promises.”
Patti didn’t say she despised me at that moment, but the look she shot me certainly said she would like to pull my hair. Wait until she lays eyes on the fuzzy wolf spider I have waiting in the wings for Jon’s next visit.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons. You can reach her by sending an email to [email protected].