When I was a kid I was really into creepy crawly things. Snakes, spiders, worms, fish, frogs, whole nine yards. I used to LOVE dissecting things, especially in science class. Figuring out how creatures worked, what their hearts looked like, where their guts were. . . all of it really. I’m not sure when I shifted to not enjoying these things so much. Even in college, a big part of life involved figuring out the genetic silk structure of this guy:
I think what changed things for me was when I went through a pretty sheltered vegetarian phase for a few years and began to get pretty squeamish about dead things, and even more squeamish about eating them. Most of my guy friends would be happy to know that I’m back to meats now, not wholeheartedly by any stretch of the imagination, but the occasional chicken doesn’t bother me anymore. Especially if I know where it came from. I’m definitely not to the point where I crave a steak or anything, but I do crave Chick-fil-a every now and again. ANYWAY, all of that was to say that I found an earthworm in my house tonight. I’m not sure how it got there, but I think it may have come in on my shoe?? When I went to pick him up, he spazzed (as they are known to do), and at first I was timid. But then I just went for it and scooped him up–and it took me backwards. Back to my childhood. Back to enjoying the creepy crawly things . . . and I smiled at the thought of showing my son the creepy crawly things of the earth. The slithering, slimy messy things that make living interesting and mysterious all at the same time.
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