When Allie was 18 months old, she was walking up the driveway when she spotted a large ant. Having had two kids before her, I expected her to walk up to the ant, inspect it with curiosity, and attempt to touch it. Instead she stopped dead in her tracks and screamed at the top of her lungs, as if the ant were 5 times her size and had venemous fangs. No amount of comforting could get her to stop her ranting, until I removed her, so that the ant was well out of vision.
Some things don't change much.
The other day Christina came down the stairs carrying a wadded up paper towl with a dead bug and headed for the trash can. With a heavy sigh and shake of her head she stated, "I guess I'm the one that's always going to have to get rid of the bugs." She sighed again, still shaking her head, and plodded back upstairs.
(Fortunately, Allie is still okay with lady bugs).
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