When I was pregnant the first time around, T and I joked that we’d better have a boy so he could kill all the bugs and spiders for me when T was at work. Well, we have our boy now, but it seems there is little hope of employing him as my on-call exterminator. Even the tiniest fruit fly sends him into a tizzy of panicked, blood-curdling shrieks. Today I wanted to show him a cricket that was on the outside of our sliding glass door. I thought he would think it was neat, since we just checked out The Very Quiet Cricket, by Eric Carle, from the library yesterday, but no, he had the same response as usual, even though I explained that the cricket was outside and couldn’t hurt him at all. I had to pull the blinds closed before D.L.F. would stop screaming. Hopefully he will outgrow his bug phobia soon!