Crickets are Not Cute.

Here is your warning: if bugs gross you out, do not look at the pictures that I posted today. But keep in mind that this one is dead, even though he looks alive. And also keep in mind that I had to encounter this bug in my basement at 5:45 this morning, so suck it up. It's just a picture.



But the bug is gross. Awful. Horrific.



Well, let me explain the encounter.



As a backstory, I would like it to be known that Eric Carle has lied to me. I love Eric Carle. Amazing autor, artist, writer. He taught me about the Very Hungry Caterpillar and the Clumsy Clickbeetle, and I read him to the Reilly Baby. However, he also taught me about the Quiet Cricket. Such a cute, sweet, book...with beautiful music at the end in the scene of a starry night. You lied to me, Mr. Carle. Crickets are not cute. Not at all.



So I had to go down to my basement fridge to get some more juice. I need to drink gallons a day for the breast feeding, so I need to start early. So I was at the top of the stairs, and then I saw it. It was at the bottom of the stairs, and it was crawling slowly and creepily. It looks like it was crawling with 5 arms. A slow army crawl. It. was. GINORMOUS.



I screamed for Hubby and said, "ComehereComehereComehere. Drop whatever you are doing and come over here right now right now! And bring a textbook." Of course he thought I was dying so he ran over and said, "What's the matter!" Then he saw my nemesis, and he said the unbelieveable words:



"Honey, it's just a cricket."



WHAT! A CRICKET!! That is the very quiet cricket who learns to make beautiful music?!

[Now I will admit, as angry as I was that such an ugly insect had such a misrepresented reputation, I was relieved that it was not a cockroach. Cockroach would mean horrible things. Namely, that my home is dirty. And that would make me cry. I've only ever seen a cockroach in the bathroom of a Burger King in Arkansas. Good times.]



So then it happened. Hubby ran down the stairs, searched quickly for something to hit it with, and nothing was nearby. So he killed it with his bare hands. Actually his fingers, but that doesn't sound as cool. He flicked it. Hubby always flicks bugs and kills then on contact. I don't have enough finger flick power, I've tried to do it. Something about the potential engergy of the flick, I imagine. Same reason I can't snap my fingers. Not enough finger power.

Anywho, here is the demon. That Hubby killed. With his bare fingers.



OKAY! RIGHT! Now you understand my panic. And hatred for all things cricket. He looks like he should have become extinct with his cousin, the Pterodactyl.

And let's just give a cyber high five to my Hubby for saving my life!! And Reilly's life! From this creature! Wait, not yet, first put that awful thing down, then we'll high five you.

(This is it's belly. Ugh.)

Okay, HIGH FIVE! You all should get yourself a tough country Hubby. Not mine, but a different one. One who flicks bugs. It's really a wonderful thing. Love you, Handsome.

Side note: When he began coming upstairs with this creature, dead, in his fingers...I ran in the other room and hid from him. Just in case he came back to life and decided to jump out of Husband's death grip and attack me.

Why are these creatures only in the country? I did not grow up with this. We only had ants where I grew up. The occasional bee. Maybe a worm when it rained. Lord help Reilly when she looks to her Mama to be brave. Mama's not cut out for these horrific encounters. Especially not before my coffee. Thank you for listening, I feel better already.

Love & Snug as Bug,

Dirt Road Mama