potato bug . . .

Tater Bugs.

I'm usually not opposed to those roly poly buggeroos. They're harmless, right? It's only when my dear daughter decides to accidentally drop one down my dress during Family Home Evening that the nightmares start--for everybody. Just be glad that you weren't present for the event.

There I was, like a good little mom, innocently sitting there on the couch-- listening to the wonderful lesson that Greg had put together about seeds and faith etc. etc. and Nanners was playing with her new pet, the potato bug. This potato bug was not a nice potato bug, you could see it in his eyes and I could tell before Natalie made her sister's Easter bucket his home that he meant to disrupt our family home evening. Seriously, I just know these things. And sometimes I just make these things up after the fact because its my story and I can do that.

Anyways. Nanners brought the bug over to me for examination and somehow during the process lost the bug...in my dress. Notice I didn't say on, but IN as in INSIDE my dress. This is where it gets interesting. I kind of freaked out, as reverently as I could because it was during family home evening after all-- I jumped up, danced around a lot and even unbuttoned a couple buttons on my dress. I have to admit, I was a little proud of myself because I didn't let the yelping or squealing start until 5 minutes after the ordeal began. I did all of this while my little family just watched in amusement. Especially Greg. At least I was contributing to family night, right?

After more than 10 minutes of searching on myself and in the couch I had to cry defeat. The roly poly monster had won the right to give me the heebie jeebies for the rest of my life, or at least the rest of the day. I swore I could feel him crawling all over me. Ewww.

Over two hours later, I was running around the house doing my usual Sunday frenzy of activity when Greg gave me a love pat on my bottom. Yep. You read that last sentence right. I wouldn't have written it if it wasn't very pertinent to my story, I promise. As Greg patted my bottom he felt an unusual lump on my bum and wouldn't you know it... it was the mr. Potato bug himself. Alive and doing well. The perv.

I have therefore outlawed Mr. roly poly and all of his relatives from entering the Debra Lea homestead. You think that's a little too harsh? YOU try having a potato bug crawling around your skivvies for a couple of hours and then we'll talk.