When I was in New York last weekend Michael called me to tell me we had a new pet. "What?" I exclaimed, practically yelling into the phone. "We are NOT GETTING A NEW PET. "
"I got a caterpillar Mommy. I made him a terrarium." (Who the hell says terrarium? What the hell 5 year old says terrarium?")
"Michael, the caterpillar needs to live OUTSIDE. OUTSIDE."
"But Mommy, I want him inside, he is my pet."
"OUTSIDE. Caterpillars live OUTSIDE."
"But Mommy…."
"Can I talk to Daddy please?"
"He found him at the campground," Doug said when he came to the phone.
"Doug, that caterpillar is not living in my house."
"But it is in a closed box."
"OUTSIDE."
When I came home the caterpillar was in fact OUTSIDE. In some bug kit we had bought him a gazillion years ago that I had long since forgotten about. That came with plastic bugs. He had made him a nice home with leaves and sticks and some plastic bug friends. I'd show you a picture but I'm writting this at 9 o'clock at night and it is pouring rain. It's cute. Except that he begs me to bring the Caterpillar inside because he is cold! and wet! and my favorite, "Foster is going to eat him." (Never mind that Foster is inside.)
Here is the thing. I'm a girlie girlie. I like things that are pink. And frilly. I love the Disney Princesses. I went to the flagship Juicy Couture store this weekend. And was happy. Give me sparkles. And makeup. I don't do dirt. And bugs. And mud. And caterpillars.
Can't we send the caterpillars home? To the wild? Does he really need a Terrarium?
And what did Michael name him? Baby Caterpillar.
I blame the camping. Nothing good comes from camping.
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Yeah, Nicky’s most recent “pet” was a silverfish. He came to me in the kitchen to show me his “baby tunafish” that was crawling on his hand.
I’m pretty proud of myself for maintaining low tones.
Michael and most of his friends were obsessed with caterpillars while they camped. I think he played with the caterpillar all day Saturday. He built him a castle and a tinker toy cabin and gave him a ride on a small toy skate board and an old Thomas train. It was actually very cute.
i.cant.do.bugs.EVER
Oh, honey – You would not like our house. I keep a box of old plastic containers in our cabinets so that Arun can grab one whenever he finds a goodie. During the summer, we usually have a collection on the kitchen counter peering out desperately. He knows that he supposed to avoid “black spiders with a red spot on the abdomen”, but other than that, all is fair game. (and yes, he has been bitten by a spider, but it was a dry bite)
Current collection? 1 house centipede and 1 container full of water that contains some sort of BUG. Arun swears it is a tadpole, but the thing has antennae. He is going to be sorely disappointed.
Yes, I think Michael and Arun would be good friends if we lived closer.
Love this. I’m not a girlie girlie as you may have read, but I am not at all crazy about having pets. So you pretty much had me at the first paragraph. The OUTSIDE. OUTSIDE. ??? I saw myself. ohmygod. great.
I don’t DO bugs either. Not even flies, they die a terrible death when they cross my path. Flying, crawling or any kind of bug, I just don’t like them. I’m not a girly girl really, but I just don’t do bugs. I can’t blame you for wanting the vile thing OUTSIDE. At least you’re all for letting it live, unlike cold hearted me! haha. I’d want it OUTSIDE and DEAD.