Toads and bugs

Something happened the other night that I can best attribute to the wonder and amazement seen through the eyes of a child.  I'll set the scene:  it was just about bedtime and even though Elisa had on her jammies, there were still a few wiggles we needed to get out before hitting the pillow.  This time of year is so lovely, even with the mild chill in the air come evening.  Every chance she gets to call our attention out the back windows, Elisa points and exclaims enthusiastically for the hammock.  So on this particular night, I thought, "why not?" and we ventured out in the back for a few swings and some fresh air.

Jammies zipped up, sneakers back on, and furry friend Lunie in the lead, the three of us went out to explore our suburban wilderness.  Diego and I both get great joy in pushing Elisa in the hammock.  She already exhibits  some of her dad's daredevil persona, as we wrap her up cocoon-style and send her sailing within the brightly colored netting.  She can barely catch her breath from the enthusiasm in her giggles and chortles.  An occasional peek into the hammock sends her in even greater fits of glee.  She never tires of this game.

Now, if I left all the decisions up to her, however, we might still be hammocking away in the moonlight (or even in this very moment), so I have to get creative and intrigue her elsewhere.  With this said, a trip out to the backyard isn't complete without a visit to Mr. Toad II.  (To be fair, I haven't actually confirmed if we have a Ms. or a Mr. but for now, we just refer to our backyard pet as a sir.  Additionally, it's worthy of mention that Mr. Toad I is no longer with us due to a lawn-mowing incident.  May he/she rest in peace.)  Mr. Toad II summers in our backyard beneath one of the wooden boards left by the previous owners to maintain horseshoe pits.  One of these days, I need to pick up some actual horseshoes, because the boards are only ever lifted during visiting hours of our amphibian friend.  Are you still with me?

Nothing was out of the ordinary when I lifted the board this night.  The light of day caused Mr. Toad II's bug roommates to scurry for cover and our toad friend to freeze in his camouflage.  Now, I can only assume other children (or adults) might have squealed from fear of the creepy crawlers, but Elisa was amazed.   Here's my favorite part (and as a lifelong lover of science, I'm sure you'll see why).  At this point, she audibly gasped and exclaimed, "runnin'!" and then proceeded to wave her arms and wiggle her body in such a way that had to be her impression of the skinny brown millipedes seeking shelter from our abrupt imposition.  I looked down to see these bug friends, who I have to admit, are not a part of nature I typically choose to appreciate.  But wouldn't you know, they were in fact runnin'!  We both enjoyed watching our new millipede friends show us their energetic little dance, while saying hello to Mr. Toad II.  After a few minutes, though, we left them all to carry on about their business.

After bedtime was all said and done, I knew I had to document this little story.  It is something I would typically just share with Elisa in her journal I write just for her.  But since a journal with any white space is nary to be found in our house (due to a lengthy stay on my to-do list, and having completed the last journal weeks/months? ago), here is where it will be read.

I would love to embrace life with the awe, whimsy, and joy that Elisa taught me this night, and continues to teach me on a daily basis.  Her view of the world is an endearing one I hope to keep alive and well in her for many years to come.  And may I just say, may she continue to love bugs, explore her surroundings (especially those in nature), and appreciate and respect our living world!  I love you, my little budding scientist/naturalist!