Hypothesis Proven and Other Sad Tales

Yesterday, when I went to check on "that thing in our holly bush" that we hypothesized was a Praying Mantis egg case, I got the surprise of my life. I picked up the jar containing the "thing" (we have been keeping it in our garage) while the kids were riding around on their bikes, and thought, "Where the heck did all of those thorns come from?"

I quickly realized that those "thorns" were baby praying mantises. They look remarkably like the grown-up versions, but only a quarter inch long. The egg case was probably a quarter hatched, and it still looked like there were a hundred of those little guys in the jar.

The kids were ecstatic. Xavier did his little happy dance, which consists of leaping from foot to foot like Rumplestiltskin, while Gwen proudly carried the jar down to the "hazelnut island" (formerly the Weed Garden), babbling all the time about how she knew from the beginning that it was a Praying Mantis egg case, and it was her idea, no one else's, the whole nine yards (none of which was true, but no point in kicking a kid during her moment of glory.)

We put the Praying Mantises and their egg case next to an old tree stump in the middle of the Hazelnut Island, and the baby Praying Mantises -- evidently short on instinct at this point -- were crawling all over the kids' arms, much to their delight.

Suddenly, Gwen's eyes were filling with tears, and Xavier was wrapping his little arms around her, trying to comfort her. "Gwen, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I don't want them to go!" she cried. "I love them so!"

At this rate, she would be in no condition to go to karate, so I suggested we get the Bug Catcher and take one of them to karate class to show the instructors. As luck would have it, there was a small beetle lounging sedately inside the jar -- all the better. Baby Praying Mantis could go on a whirlwind tour of the karate school, have a quick bite to eat, then return to his new home in Hazelnut Island. Gwen and Xavier were excited again.

The Kempo Karate instructors did an appropriate amount of ooh-ing and ah-ing, but the funny thing was, the baby Praying Mantis would not go anywhere near that beetle. The beetle, on the other hand, was not wild about having that Praying Mantis in there, and was making a whirlwind tour around the bug catcher.

So, as it turns out, no beetles were harmed in the making of this blog. We got home from karate, and we took the praying mantis out to the backyard. Tears streaming down her face, Gwen released the little praying mantis -- and the beetle. The praying mantis rapidly climbed back onto her arm, and lingered there until a stray breeze happened by and it either flew or was swept away. Gwen was hysterical, and cried all the way back to our house (I'm sure the neighbor -- who was mowing his lawn -- thinks one of our cats has gone to that giant scratching post in the sky.) She cried through her bath, and made me late for karate.

And the whole time, I couldn't help but think, "That'll be me in twelve years, sending you off to college."

We went out to the Hazelnut Island today in search of baby praying mantises. We found one (or possibly two), but they had no interest in crawling on the kids' arms today, much to Gwen's disappointment. At least this time there were no tears.

Well, not until a bee flew too close to Gwen and she was afraid to go into the garage.

Knock-knock

Last Saturday (the 14th), I had the sinus infection from heck, and Adam let me sleep in late. I was lounging around in bed in my pajamas, and he, while dressed, was midway through brushing his teeth, when the doorbell rang.

Well, I wasn't about to go downstairs in my jammies, so Adam ran into the bathroom and ditched the toothbrush. Still, there was someone even faster, because as Adam hit the top of the stairs, I heard an adult female voice say, "Well, hello!"

Yes, it is exactly as you feared -- Xavier had opened the door to the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Adam is actually pretty tolerent of the Jehovah's Witnesses, especially for someone who does not go to church, and after a few minutes, he managed to get rid -- I mean, he walked them out. No harm done.

When they were gone, I came downstairs and talked to Xavier about the incident. "Xav, you can't open the door to strangers."

Blank stare. "Why?"

"Well, because they might have been bad people."

"But they weren't."

"Well, no, but they could have been. And sometimes strangers do bad things to people."

"But they didn't."

"But they could have. They could have been dangerous, and they could have done something scary."

Xavier smiled. "It's okay, Mom. They were Chinese."

I'm not sure where he came up with the assumption that Chinese people are automatically safe -- although, admittedly, the ones we know are very nice. His theory crumbles somewhat, however, when one considers the fact that they were not Chinese: one white man, one African-American woman.

Xavier's powers of observation aside, I stressed that opening the door to strangers was unsafe behavior, and he seemed to take it to heart.

So, the next day, we went to a play, a Sunday matinee, an hour from our home. Our babysitter was running a little late, and I was getting a little anxious -- we were driving three other people who were also waiting -- when Xavier shouted. "She's here!"

Looking up, and seeing through the window that this was in fact the case, and seeing Xavier dancing by the front door, I grabbed my coat and said, "Okay, Xavier -- it is Miss Erica -- you can let her in."

So Xavier opened the door, and Gwen -- who had evidently missed this exchange -- gave a blood-curdling scream and shouted, "Xav! You never open the door to strangers!"

On that note (or on the flip side) ...

I was in the backyard mowing the lawn today. I was about halfway done, and I decided it was time to take a break and get a drink. I walked up onto the deck to the backdoor; sitting just inside, filling out thank-you cards, was Gwen. Sitting about ten feet past her was Xavier, playing with a game. The backdoor was locked.

I knocked on the door. Gwen turned, waved, then returned to what she was doing. Xavier showed no sign that he had heard.

I knocked again. Same thing: quick wave from Gwen, then her back was to me again. No response from Xavier.

I knocked again. "Gwen!" I called. "Unlock the door!" No response from either kid this time.

This time I knocked continuously until Gwen finally turned and stared at me with a look of irritation. She got up, unlocked the door and opened it. "What?!? I'm busy!" she snapped. Xavier still kept playing his game, as if nothing had happened.

I guess someone has learned the lesson a little too well.

Spinning

Sorry it has been so long since I have last posted. We were busy, busy, busy, and I meant to post Monday, but that ended up being a very bad day. I wanted to post yesterday (Gwen's birthday), but it still didn't feel right. I'm not sure it feels right today, either, but I wanted to let everyone know we are fine, don't worry about us, but please pray for those who are not fine: those who are gone, those who are grieving, and those who are still afraid.

During times like this, children are a blessing. You can't leave the TV or radio on, because this is too much for them, but this keeps you from getting too consumed in it as well. And since they don't understand tragedy, they continue to do the funny, normal, day-to-day things that bring laughter into our lives, despite everything.

Gwen and Xavier have done some very funny things in the past couple of days, but I am not ready to write about them yet. Instead, I will let you know that they are "camping" upstairs in Gwen's room in a tent that Uncle Ez gave them for Christmas a couple of years ago (Gwen is really too tall to be sleeping in that tent, and her head and feet are poking out of the walls.) They are dreaming they are on an adventure camping on the moon, but they are mundanely, boringly safe, as safe as they ever were, and as safe as any of us can hope to be.

Terminology

Adam spent an evening with the kids last night while I went to karate class. Our usual Instructor is abroad (not "a broad" but overseas) right now; the visiting Instructor is also very good, and we have all been having a good time with her. But I digress ...

Although I enrich the kids' lives by reading them Calvin and Hobbes at bedtime (a practice I may need to discontinue because it is making Gwen anxious), Adam decided to try National Geographic for a change. He kind of skims over it, making it fun for the kids by giving people (and animals) funny voices, but they are both pretty intrigued by some of the science facts as well.

Anyway, last night Adam asked the kids if they knew the difference between archeologists and paleontologists. This is kind of funny, because Xavier has a dinosaur shirt that reads "Young Archeologist" on the back, which makes me cringe every time I see it.

Gwen responded, "Of course I know the difference, Daddy!"

Impressed, Adam said, "Really? What is the difference, then?"

Gwen replied patiently, "'Archeology' begins with 'Ark,' and 'Paleontology' begins with 'Pale.'"

Xavier was especially fascinated by an article they "read" which talked about rock formations in Guatemala. As he was brushing his teeth, he asked Adam, "Daddy, when we grow up, can we go to guacamole and see some rocks?"