All Creatures Great and Small

We just returned from Nell & Josh’s house where the church held the Palm Sunday Fish Bake. We had a very nice time. The children played in the creek and threw bread at the ducks. They found a duck’s nest and decided it was their duty to pull the eggs from the nest to “help keep them warm” (much to the apparent shock and alarm of the mama duck who quacked and flapped nearby).

Little Mark “fell” into the one-foot-deep-creek up to his neck. He said he fell, but I imagine he sat, lay down, and rolled around till he felt cold.

Bridget and Little Mark found a dead snake which she brought up to the house and proudly displayed for all the grownups present. Stephanie cried because she said the decapitated snake was “broken.”

Today I came to the sad realization that I am not the tomboy I used to be.

I used to be able to keep up with the worst of boys, with their slimy, grimy, wormy, and beetle-y approach to the world. Now I start shaking and squealing if, perchance, I find a bagworm on my pajamas sleeve (this morning’s adventure)—or when a little girl presents the dead snake she found in the creek.

It still makes my skin crawl to think of it.

I’m such a baby.