Still quite wet and dreary out this morning from yesterday's rain, my two princesses and Aidan went out to "rescue the worms." A little under the weather myself, it took me a few minutes to realize I had three kids out in the driveway, (two in their princess pajamas) squatting down, searching for any worms still alive (albeit barely) and helping them into the soil-pit they had been digging in a few days earlier. You see, my kids are "worm-people." Some claim to be cat-people, some dog-people, (as if it is entirely impossible to like both?) but my kids, they are worm-people. Sure, they like cats and dogs but you show them some fresh worms that they can get their fingers on and you will be their favorite person for days to come! I can hardly wait to see how they react when we teach them how to fish. I am guessing the girls will insist on using rubbery, fake worms so as not to hurt the real ones!
Anyway, it was time to get Aidan to the bus stop so I rescued the remaining baby-wipes from the hands of Liam who, having realized he was not being watched as thoroughly as usual, had found the new pack of wipes accidentally left in his reach, and was enthusiastically enjoying the thrill of pulling them out one by one and throwing them in the air behind him. I grabbed Liam, a few wipes and headed out to gather my brood and herd them across the street, wiping Aidan's hands in the process.
We arrived at the bus stop where my neighbor started laughing hysterically at Lily: her face smeared with soil, the feet of her footed princess pj's completely black from the muddy mess, and her eyes bulging with excitement by the prospect of all the half-live worms at the side of the road. My neighbor's daughter started to help Lily find a few more and as we looked down to see Lily opening her hand to accept them we noticed the inside of her opened fist and saw what looked like a squirming human brain. It was at that stomach lurching moment I realized something: although I may be many things, I am NOT a worm-person.