Entymophagy 101

We went to Purdue today for the Bug Bowl. Although the entymology department puts it on every year, this is the first time we've gone. For Andrew, it was three hours of bliss, and an excuse to eat bugs. We recoiled in horror as he swallowed worms and crickets with reckless abandon. We also watched in wonder as he informed (and sometimes corrected) college students about insect origins and habits.

In Indiana, we sometimes spit crickets out of our mouths to impress our friends and neighbors. Just kidding. But there is a cricket spitting contest at the Bug Bowl. Emma joined Andrew in the cricket spitting contest, because she is exceedingly brave. Although if the crickets had been alive, she says she wouldn't have done it.

Stoked.

Emma's cricket carcass flew 3'2", and Andrew's went 3'3". Into a strong headwind. Emma says she forgot to blow air while the cricket was leaving her mouth, so it could have gone farther. I think if we go back the kiddos should try removing the cricket appendages before spitting--this would make the crickets more aerodynamic, and it would prevent pictures like this:

This is Emma after she spat. You'll want to click on the photo to see what's dangling from her lips. Yep, that's a cricket leg. That is probably why she is not smiling. And yes, call me callous for taking a photo before I told her there was a cricket leg on her mouth, but the photo is so worth it.

Mealworm brownie. He couldn't finish because it was "too chocolatey." Seriously.

Tastes like chicken. Just kidding. He said this worm and potato mix tasted like french fries. We took his word for it.

More madness. Crickets on a stick, covered in chocolate. Whatever.

Meanwhile, Ethan decided he wants a pet bunny.

Sophie rode on a pony called Abe.

Enough of the rainbows and unicorns. Emma held a millipede, although not one of the poisonous ones.

I was holding the camera, so I couldn't play with the tarantula. Maybe next year.

In his element.

Overheard

SOPHIE: Dad, the thing is...
ME: What? What's the thing?
SOPHIE: The thing is, why are we not making cupcakes right now?

Overheard

SOPHIE: Can you stop being the Count? [We had just read a Sesame Street book.]
ME: OK. I'll just be daddy again.
SOPHIE: 'Cause if you are in Elmo then I would miss ya.

Overheard

ANDREW: I always get those "I" countries confused, like Iran, Iraq, Ireland...

The chocolate bunny was dispatched swiftly and without mercy

Overheard

SOPHIE: Bamma and Pa, guess what? We're going to have a baby, except it's a boy.

Overheard

ETHAN (while getting dressed this morning): Can you ever quit if you work in a lumber mill?

It's a happy day today.

Overheard

ME (at bedtime): Boys, turn off your light. Time to go to sleep.
ANDREW: But how am I supposed to get back to my bed if the light is turned off?
ME: I don't know. Try echolocation.

I should have told him to try this:

"I'm so fast that last night I turned off the light switch in my hotel room and was in bed before the room was dark."

Overheard

SOPHIE: Who's your favorite princess?
ME: Sophie.
SOPHiE: I'm not a princess. I'm not even in any princess movies.
ME: You don't have to be in a princess movie to be a princess.
SOPHIE: And I'm not even wearing a dress.
GINGER: Sometime princesses have to wear pants.
SOPHIE: Mom when you do that you're such a weirdo.

No.

Ethan has been singing out loud for eight and a half years. Most of the time he doesn't even know he's doing it.

This morning at 7AM he was downstairs belting out Beatles songs a capella, at volume 11. Ginger and I were trying to sleep in until at least 7:15--I mean it is Saturday, after all. So we called him up to our room. I asked him to please not sing any more Beatles songs until everyone was out of bed.

So he said "OK," went back downstairs, and started singing C+C Music Factory instead.

Everybody dance now.

Guilty.

Overheard

Sophie said our family prayer tonight:

"...Thank you for this day and bless it so we will have a goodnight and so daddy will wake up in the morning and make us crepes..."

Except for the standard beginning and end, that was the entire prayer.

Oh, and I just made crepes yesterday.

Overheard

Sophie just came into my office, plopped herself on the big chair, and started the following conversation.

SOPHIE: Dad, the thing is, I'm worried Christmas is not going to start.
ME: Why are you worried about that?
SOPHIE: Because Christmas is not going to start.
ME: Why not?
SOPHIE: Because Santa died.
ME: What??
SOPHIE: Santas can die you know.
ME: How do you know Santa died?
SOPHIE: Because I dinnit see him.
ME: At Christmas time?
SOPHIE: Uh huh.

And then she changed the subject.

Theory of relativity

A couple of days ago I spoke to a friend from Haiti.  He told me that when he was a college student in that country over 20 years ago, he worked with a group of professors and students on an emergency plan for the government.  They were tasked with coming up with the worst possible natural disaster or crisis they could imagine, and a concrete plan for how the country should deal with the crisis. 

So they met and tied to determine the worst kind of event.  A hurricane?  No, those happen all the time--everyone knows what to do in a hurricane.  A tsunami? Maybe--that would be bad.  Instead, they came up with something that in their minds would be even worse: A snowstorm. 

Yep, they put together an emergency plan so the government would know what to do if Haiti ever received 15 inches of snow in a 24-hour period.  Ironically, he said the idea of an earthquake never even made it on their list, as it was considered such a remote possibility.  "Even more remote than a snowstorm in Haiti?" I asked.  He said, "Well, we had to come up with something."  It was the worst thing they could possibly imagine.  I don't know if that's funny or sad; maybe it's a little of both.  He thinks it's funny, now that he's lived through so many Indiana winters.

Sometimes when it's quiet in the afternoon...

...we'll go upstairs and find that Sophie has snuck into bed for a
nap. Other days, she won't take a nap to save her life.