So, our small (ha!) family has grown by ten. Ladybugs.
One of the kids’ Christmas presents was Ladybug Land…a cute habitat where budding bug-lovers can raise ladybugs from larvae.
Last year we gave Catie the Butterfly version of this, and it was such a hit, we thought we’d try again. Score two for Insect Lore and their fabulous products. We may not be ready to tackle their Praying Matis Pagoda or Spider Houses, but the Ladybugs are perfect.
Being neither a bug lover or especially good nurturer of things not are not my kids, I’d had my doubts about the Butterflies last year. We have killed every single plant that has entered our home. Not killed actively, mind you, but slowly dehydrated by forgetting to water it for days…weeks.
I’m worried about the Ladybugs.
This morning was one of those unbelievably hectic ones. I had to get to the twins’ school to teach Bible study. I had to get the twins in uniforms, regulate hair issues (of which we have many), get Catie on the bus in the nine minutes remaining after she got dressed for the first fifteen minutes of her morning. In an outfit I had already placed on her chair. In the precise order she needed to put it on. I have no idea what she does up there when she’s supposed to be getting dressed. Give our dog her prescription eye drops. Fight my own hair battles. Feed Nate. Clean up the Nate spit-up. Cuddle the ever-grinning Nate.
You get the idea.
All while M. was on a conference call to Germany, trying to help me as I yelled to Catie to GET DOWN HERE and wrestled with three-year-old shoes. All this while he held the muted phone, which was on speaker and from which heavy accents discussed ES-AA-P!
As Catie ran out the door, she reminded me “Water the ladybugs!”
A command I haven’t thought about again until this moment. And I’m still not getting up to water them.
Yes, yes. It will be a miracle if our family of sixteen survives.
