My 8-year-old granddaughter visited our new home and told us she wants to be an entomologist when she grows up.
Doesn't that sound wonderful?
Imagine my embarrassment when she held up what I thought was a twig and informed me it was a millipede. Then, to make matters worse, she seemed ecstatic when she noticed the earwig scurrying across our living room floor. Finally, on her way out the door there was the photo-op of a giant moth. Don't they have bugs in Connecticut?
Her parents must be horrified at my slovenly housekeeping and I'm glad for the gentle reminder about spring-cleaning.