Born as one of three girls, I’m convinced I’ve adapted pretty well to being a boy mom; but today, heck, it made the charts. I mean what’s a girl to do?
Silence, in a home marked by the ever-present low hum of children, is NOT a comforting notion. See, for about 3 minutes my senses lapse into utopic ease. Then fear strikes the depths of my heart because a hush does NOT indicate tranquility. It means a palaver is brewing.
Today, around 3:30- a time my boys usually need mama to cook up fun- not one of those 5 striplings could be found in the house. I wandered outside sure to unearth my fellas. There they were. All of them.
Hunter, leading the bunch as a sensible, older brother should, held the others attention with merely a magnifying glass. (My boys are not captivated that easily by non-motorized apparatuses.) My boys spotted me and invited me to join their fun. The bug under their hand lens was no shock; however their answer to “what they were doing” caught my attention.
“Mom, help us cook the squash bugs! They’re way better cooked! Stellar, in fact (says one 14 yr. old boy).”
“Ugh, uh, what? Excuse me? Better for what?” I inquired.
“Eating. The last three weren’t too bad. We thought we’d do another,” croaked Tiger.
And with that, 3 boys proceeded to bite down on that squash bug. I don’t know which troubled me more the sight of medium-rare cooked squash bug’s goo erupting or the crunch of that brittle shell entering my ears. Gross!
|Ty trying squash bug tidbits.|
|Squash bug in Tiger's teeth.|
|Hunter having a squash bug nibble.|
What’s a mom to do? You know the adage, “if you can’t beat them, join them.” I guess I’ll be munching squash bugs the next 16 years.