In the last month or so, my boys have spent what seems like hours every day searching for critters and collecting them in containers, observing them as they frantically try to escape their newfound hell in action, and then wondering briefly the next day, before going off on the hunt again, why the specimen is dead, despite the grass and dirt they threw at it and the holes they poked in the lid. I can't tell you how many earthworms, roly polys, moths, spiders, grubs, slugs, ladybugs, crickets, ants, flies, and cicadas they've captured; but to this day, each discovery is as exciting as the very first.
One afternoon a few weeks ago, a neighborhood girl Ezra is soft on came over for a visit. Before she left, Ezra extracted a roly poly from the collection he had amassed earlier, put it in its own little container, wrote "love" on the lid, and handed it to her.
"This is for you," he said meaningfully.
Because nothing says "I love you" like a terrestrial crustacean.
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