Grasshopppers

In theory, I am a proponent of exploration, getting dirty and teaching initiative.  We are studying insects in science right now and I was quite proud of myself for redirecting my fearful daughter to go outside even though the backyard is 'full' of bees.  I told her to catch one and identify all of its parts.  She wasn't having any of that, but when I suggested she do the same with a different insect, she was off like a rocket.

I could hear the squealing through the windows as, what I could only assume, they made efforts to capture some creepy crawly.  I was able to smile and champion them when they burst inside triumphant with their creature.  But this is where my true colors peek out from behind my lofty theories.  I am just a girl.  A silly, squeamish, squeaky girl.

Bugs are yucky.  I don't want to get too close and I don't want one getting loose in my house.  And these facts are all I can think about when the kids go through the process of transferring, watering, and inspecting their newly named grasshoppers--Frankie and Benny, by the way.

Because I know I am all squishy girly on the inside, I don't trust my instincts.  When they named them and my daughter claimed that these are their new pets forever, I kept my mouth shut.  Thank goodness, the voice of reason came from my darling husband!!  He said it would not be OK to keep them, because they would die.  Whew!!  Why didn't I say that?  Oh, I know.  Because the only words in my head were, 'No!  Get them out, now!'

It is nice when all ends well. My girliness properly restrained, the kids got a hands-on lesson, and Frankie and Benny will return to their outdoor residences.