My entomologist-in-training was pleased to inform her not so pleased by the news mother that the cicada population had not (as I had hoped) vanished for parts unknown, but rather decided to show up fashionably late to the party. We noticed they had arrived when, this past Monday morning, while waiting for the Boy to finish with his golf camp, we decided to kill some time at a nearby park. B (shown below with her find) located a cicada of the deceased persuasion almost as soon as she jumped out of the car. Her enthusiasm was, well, enthusiastic and yet, strangely unshared by me for certain phobic reasons I won't get into right now...Needless to say, she was bound and determined not to leave the park without her catch. After scrounging around the car for a minute, she settled on an only-been-used-once Ziploc sandwich baggie and dropped the red-eyed little critter inside. Feeling satisfied, she gathered her baggie and we all headed off to the playground area. This seemed a fine plan. Until she realized that she couldn't both hold her treasure and navigate the playground freely. All hope seemed lost but then, as she turned and saw me, her loving mother, standing nearby, hands full of baby but carrying a very.large.pocketbook a lightbulb went on. And so, to my utter dismay, my lovely summer handbag became a shuttle bus for one dead cicada while his new owner played unencumbered.
My first ever purse passenger.