The Grasshopper and My Little BF

I took entomology my last real semester at BYU.  Hated it.  My professor (who was actually a grad student) completely traumatized me during the first week with a grasshopper.  Before that class, I just thought insects were gross.  Now they're gross and terrifying.  But hey, at least I can tell you how to classify them, right?

Fast forward to last week.  We are pulling out of our church parking lot after our ward Trunk-or-Treat party, and Em and Nora are buckled in the back. Tyler is putting our CrockPot in the front passenger seat so he can take the other car to go study.  I see something jump in the car when Tyler opens the passenger door.  I throw the car in park, and he starts looking for whatever I swear I saw.  Something jumps; I scream and jump out of the car.  (I totally left my kids in the car.  Good thing I put it in park.) Eventually, Tyler managed to get the culprit - a grasshopper -  out, and I managed to convince myself to get back into the car.


About three minutes into our drive home , Em says in a very serious voice, "Mom, we need to have a talk."

"What's up, girl?"

"Mom, you didn't need to scream like that.  That adorable little grasshopper was my friend."

"Your friend, huh?"

"Yes.  He just jumped in the car because he wanted to tell me a secret."

"Oh yeah? What'd he want to tell you?"

"He said, 'Tell your mom not to be afraid.  I'm just an adorable little grasshopper.'"

"Oh."

"So next time, Mom, you have to promise me that you won't scream like that.  Screaming is not necessary."


She had a point.  But it's probably going to take more than a three-year-old telling me not to scream to undo my entomology trauma.  I do love how our conversations are changing and maturing every day, though.  Whether she's giving me advice about bugs or she's asking to borrow my shoes, this girl really is my little best friend.