I hate bugs. No, wait. I HATE bugs! I treat almost every bug like it is a dangerous, stinging, flying disc of death. Seriously. Flat isn’t flat enough when it comes to bugs. My kids laugh at me, but I can’t help it. Glad I could provide them some entertainment.
We have been having a serious infestation of stink bugs in our fine town. You can’t walk two feet without having a stink bug fly in your face. Ok, that’s an exaggeration, but they are bad. Now just visualize someone like me walking around with all these stink bugs in the air.
Yesterday while I was in car line to pick up my kids, I was on the phone with a friend. We talked about this, and that, and at the end, she asked me if I had been having stink bug problems, and then told me she had gone out to her car to find six stink bugs in it. I sympathized, and as my kids were now getting in the car, said goodbye and hung up.
The drive home was the usual chatter about their school day, and homework for the evening. We were about two miles from home when I felt something hit my head. Well, the stink bugs had been sitting there in my subconcious, and I was certain there was one attacking me. So, I did what only someone like me could do. I screamed. No, I SCREAMED! (My son just corrected me and said it was a shriek-complete with demonstration. My ear is now ringing).
Whether it was a shriek or a scream, it was loud. A full fledged screeching scream, complete with one hand batting at my hair. When I finally came to my senses, I realized they were staring at me. Buzzard had an odd look on his face, and I began to laugh. I laughed so hard, I could barely spit out any words, having realized that the “bug” was a rubberband that Buzzard had been playing with. It shot out of his hands and hit me in the head.
“Gosh mom. You didn’t have to pierce my eardrum,” Buzzard says.
I guess we’re even now.