October 03, 2006
The nine-year-old came inside a bit ago to tell me they had found a two-headed bug on the deck. Hmmm . . . I had a good idea of what they had really found, but headed outside so they could show me this bit of biological weirdness. With excitement they showed me the two-headed insect on their picnic table and, after about one second of careful observation, I discerned that what they had found was actually two bugs that really probably needed to get one room.
So now I have been pondering the fact that when my quite intelligent nine-year-old sees what is most likely bug copulation, she immediately jumps to the conclusion that it is an insect with two heads. Is she too old for this level of innocence? Is home schooling keeping her too protected from the world? We’ve talked about the basics of procreation, so it’s not like she and the seven-year-old are totally in the dark.
I distinctly remember a field trip episode when I was about her age. Our class was visiting some sort of park/nature preserve and there were a bunch of ducks by the pond. Two ducks were being very friendly with one another and one of the boys in my class shouted, “Look at those ducks! Those ducks are (insert word that doesn’t start with F, ends in ING, means the same thing, and isn’t used in polite company)!” It never occurred to him, or me, or probably anyone else in our class, that it was a two-headed duck . . . with the shakes.
Whether she is too innocent for her age or not, at least my daughter didn’t run into the house yelling, “Mom, mom, you should see these bugs ****ing!” and that makes me happy.
Very shortly after I stuck my nose in the bugs’ business, they separated and flew off. “So it was two bugs,” the girls all exclaimed with wonderment and dismay. “I wonder why their bottoms were stuck together like that?!?!?”
“Well,” I said, “maybe they were making bug babies.”
“Eeewwwww!!” squealed the oldest two. And, for now, that makes me happy.
While I’m on the topic of animals getting groovy, I have to apologize to the folks at our zoo if they were hoping for baby otters in the spring. We happened upon the otter enclosure just as Mr. and Mrs. O were trying to bring that dream to fruition. As the girls stood there wondering why one otter was “sitting” on the other, and I stood there wondering if he had killed her in the process (she was lying VERY still), Tank Boy hurled his sippy cup at them, effectively ruining their date. He didn’t actually hit them with it, but he did somehow manage to get it between the bars and it landed in their pond with quite the distracting splash.
After swimming out to see what the new toy was, the otters headed back for land where Mrs. O immediately started dancing like a socialite in a night club vying for some Greek billionaire’s attention. We moved on.*
In adoption related news, we got an email last Friday letting us know that our dossier has been translated and was sent to IAD (the International Adoption Department of Vietnam) on Sept. 26. Unless there are changes in the program, we won’t hear anything else regarding our adoption for quite awhile now, leaving me free to blog about who knows what. What shall I share next . . .?
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.
*I did immediately notify zoo employees of the sippy cup in the otter enclosure so that it could be removed before the otters decided to crack it open and ingest the plastic that should, instead, be leaching steadily into my son’s beverages, exposing him to xenoestrogens and giving him man boobs or cancer.