Last week spring briefly returned to Michigan and it confused all the insect life in the state. (It confused the frogs, too. The spring peepers were squeaking away last week. They are disturbingly silent right now.)
This week the weather has turned on us and there is a light blanket of snow in my front yard.
But, the poor bugs have already started their spring awakening and are, understandably, frantically searching for someplace warm to do their insect things. As a result, 3 or 4 houseflies have moved in to my kitchen. I don’t have fast enough reflexes to do anything about them so, they have been granted a green card to stay. For now. If they start moving in their cousins and friends, they will be soundly evicted with a can of peppermint spray. (Did you know that works? It does! Your house smells like a girl scout cookie, but at least it’s insect-free.)
As long as a fly isn’t in my food or touching my person in any way, I am fairly live and let live about them. Aili does not share that philosophy.
I don’t know how she got it in her mind that insects are satanic bringers of death and horror, but she has that belief firmly held in her little blonde head.
I was making breakfast when I heard her screaming her face off. “MAMA! COME QUICK!!! MAMAAAA!”
I bolted to her, thinking she was hurt or stuck in the rungs of a chair (again).
“It’s scary!” she sobbed, pointing at the smallest, laziest looking fly I had ever seen. He was just chilling out on the lamp, wondering what all the noise was about.
“It’s just a fly,” I told her.
“He’s gonna hurt me!” she wailed.
“Unless he flies straight up your nose, there really isn’t anything he can do to you.”
Aili’s eyes got wide with horror and she smacked her hands over her face, protecting her little button nose. “No! No fly ub by dose!”
Oh. I should file that one under “What not to say to soothe a child’s irrational fears”.