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.