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    Respect for the bugs

    I’m not a fan of bugs. Really. I’m not. And spiders? My dad will tell you, he’s had to escort quite a few out of my room through my teens. Yep, escort, because while I can’t stand the 100-eyed hairy beasts, I can’t stand to kill them for a good reason either. Violating the boundaries of my domain just hasn’t been a good enough reason.

    Once I got my own place, and no bouncer to kick the 8-legged invaders out, I learned to tolerate their passage, and I leave them alone, as long as they leave me alone. It’s an unspoken respect thing.

    Except now with kids things are a little bit trickier. I can’t quite ignore them, because the kids won’t allow me to. They chase the spiders, and other crawly things as the bugs occasionally happen to obtain passage into our home. They don’t know their own strength, so a curious kid, often equals bug squash-er. I’m trying to curb that and teach them respect for things that are alive. Even when it’s gross. You know what this means? I have to touch the damn crawly things, as I gently try to scoop them onto my finger and take them outside. I’m approaching a new level of zen here as I do this.

    Of course, to date, this approach has only worked for bugs no bigger than 5mm in length. Any bigger than that, and I might have to cry uncle. S fessed up last week that he came across a spider in G’s room big enough that it didn’t go gently outside. It went for a swim down our toilet.

    There are definitely going to be limits. Like pincer bugs — they will meet the bottom of my shoe, or other very heavy object if ever found inside.

    Eh, this whole respecting living things lesson is hard!

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