Here I am taking a picture of my niece’s pet cutworm. (Photo by Gavin.)
In my family, we grew up fascinated with — and playing with — bugs. My niece and oldest nephew seem to have inherited the Davis love of bugs. (It’s too soon to tell with the youngest nephew.) It didn’t occur to me until I joined the Doughtie clan that bug love might not be a universal childhood trait.
I remember the first time I suggested to my youngest stepson that he turn off the electronics and go in the back yard and play with some bugs. He looked at me with gentle, puzzled concern. There might have even been a little bit of pity in his eyes. It was the sort of look I might get from another adult if I suggested out of the blue that the other adult go in the back yard and find some insects to play with. It was an “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Is everything going all right for you?” kind of look.