We lived a moment today that brought back my childhood. We were in the kitchen with the window open (to evacuate the smoke, but that's irrelevant to the story). I look up and, what do I see? A grasshopper on the windowframe. And what is my first reaction? Catch it, of course! Lacking the requisite Miracle Whip jar, I had to make do with a honey jar. I also had trouble finding a nail to poke holes in the top, but Papa came through with an awl. And so I find myself laying on the kitchen floor showing Alina his big back legs so he can jump and those funny little fingers around his mouth to help him eat. And then we go out into the yard to find some leaves and grass for him to eat. We were SOOO careful opening the lid so he wouldn't hop out. Do you have any idea how many hours of my life I spent catching and taking care of pet grasshoppers?
And now, I've passed the tradition on.
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