I have fond memories of time spent with roly polies.
But somewhere in between childhood and adulthood,
bugs and I parted ways.
Especially in the summer of 2003.
Cicadas invaded Virginia as they do every 17 years.
They covered everthing like a black crunchy blanket.
Being blind, they would often fling themselves at your forehead,
irregardless of your mindless screeching.
My mom and I were driving in the car with Jack and Will.
Jack began screaming frantically. (he was only 2)
I looked in the rearview mirror to see a lone cicada
creeping stealthily towards his ear.(red buggy eyed devil)
Madness ensued followed by ear splitting screams. (me and mom)
Immobilized by his carseat, terror widening his blue eyes,
Jack craned his neck as far as he could to the left.
I whipped the car into Ross parking lot. (nascar style)
And ninja mom that I am, (crouching tiger hidden Susanna)
Grabbed the nearest weapon (the diaper bag),
And began flailing,like a mommy windmill, at the cicada. (not affected)
Each time I whipped the bag towards Jack's head,
he would scream. I would scream. Mom would scream.
Will didn't care. (at 5 months, he had snacked on a cicada)
The creature was immovable. (unbelievable)
With one last full body lunge, I dislodged him.
He crawled away quietly. Not too concerned.
I, however, had been out-manuevered
by a bug with vision impairment. (And that hurts a little)
No, I am definitely not down with bugs.
Meet my nemesis...