However,
SB asks:
Explain this to me oh man with daughters. Why is that my 2 year old will flip
out if she's fuzz on the floor she thinks might be a bug of some sort, but
regularly brings me ants?
Spacebunny Email Homepage 03.05.05 - 12:47
pm #
Who knows SB? Fuzzy bugs are scarier I guess. My girls regularly dig worms for ritual sacrifice to the chicken, stomp ants and beetles, salt slugs, catch lightning bugs bare handed yet protest mightily the execution of a 'Lady' bug (sexist, I know). My guess would be that the 'fuzzies' are similar to those black wooly jumping spiders that seem to populate the entire universe in one form or another and your 2 year old doesn't want to give one the opportunity to trick her with its disguise. Spiders are nasty things with fangs and many creepy legs while ants are industrious. busy, harmless (yes, Gregg, I know yours aren't), non-aggressive, and their buddies don't get angry when you stomp them.
Of course, no female will pass up an opportunity to be rescued. Has she seen a playmate or relative call down immediate and deadly force by spazzing out over some poor critter? You know; (I think it's ugly. I don't like it. I'll have Daddy kill it.) WHAAAAA! One thing I have learned is to never underestimate the conniving ability of females. I don't think little girls naturally fear anything and they damned sure don't shrink from dispensing the hurt when it strikes their fancy.
Illustration:
I am reading in a chair on the porch, soakin' up the sun, and enjoying the afternoon breeze. My then 3 year old has a young cat on the porch swing lovin' on it. Ahh, summertime in Salvisa.
"khic! khic!...... KHIC!..KHIC!", I hear in my left ear.
There was my sweet daughter serenely strangling the cat, both hands encircling its neck, with outstretched arms so that poor kitty's feet dangled a few feet above the porch floor. Her eyes are locked onto his so he knows beyond a doubt from whence death comes. I must really have been absorbed in the book, because kitty was already about gone (his eye's were bugging out and he had given up the fight except for the struggle to inhale) and had only managed to alert me because my daughter was visibly fatigued and was experiencing reduced grip strength.
"Why are you killing the cat?", I asked - she knows I have no particular objection to dead cats but I can't be a bad example all the time.
"He tried to scratch me." Note: he didn't scratch her. He tried.
"You can't kill him", I stated.
"Yes, I can!", she asserted while attempting to show me how really strong she was by bearing down on her deathgrip with arm shaking determination.
oops!, "I'm sorry, hon. You 'may not' kill him for that". Semantics are important in this house - I swear sometimes I think I'm raising Philadelphia lawyers.
"Now, let him go.", still no effect, "NOW!"
She dropped the cat and stomped off in a huff.
Left to her own devices I'd bet your daughter would not shrink from puttin' the heel to that fuzzy thing just to be sure it was inoffensive. There must be a greater benefit from the attention had by calling down the 'Wrath of SpaceBunny'. Hmmmm......
"Wrath of SpaceBunny"..... Sounds like an 'R' rated Star Trek episode doesn't it?!
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