She picks up another rock, peering at the indent in the soft earth before letting it drop with a muffled thump. The beach is the other way – she even has her bathing suit still on – but no, she wants to meander along the edge of the woods. The bathing suit looks ridiculous really. A bright pink onesie with silly frills; exactly what you would expect parents to put on their kids. Awww, look how silly and cute and adorable she is. It’s a good thing that little kids don’t have any fashion sense, otherwise they would surely detest their parents’ lack thereof.
“Eewwwww.” She’s found what she was looking for. Underneath the latest rock lies, now exposed, a horde of creepy crawlies. Grimacing, she pulls out an earthworm, admiring it. She puts it aside, examining the other bugs, placing them in a neat pile to the side. One of the other kids toddles over to see what could be so interesting. She ignores him, intent on her plunder, until he looks away and she casually drapes the earthworm around his shoulders. Screaming, the kid runs back to mommy, who glares defensively back at us. Sighing, I leave my protective perch on a nearby boulder and stroll up to her.
“That wasn’t very nice, you know.”
“I know,” she says, minding her little patch of bugs, not looking at me. She’s heard this before, I’m sure.
“So why’d you do it?”
“He was buggin’ me. Besides, everyone likes bugs, it’s not my fault. Here, have some.” She thrusts a fistful of insects at me.
“No thanks,” I respectfully decline. “So I guess you know a lot about bugs, huh?”
“Mmyup, that’s right,” she holds up a shiny black and brown beetle, “This one here – see it? – this one is the, uh, Hercules Beetle. He can lift a thousand times his body weight!” She brandishes the beetle again, expecting shock and awe.
“Really? It looks like just an ordinary beetle to me.”
“Nuh-uh, it’sa Hercules Beetle,” she takes the beetle back, holding it close to protect its identity.
“Oh, well that one is a, uh, European Strangler,” I point dramatically at the confused-looking earthworm looking for a way back into the dirt. “Be careful with that one, they’ve been known to attack chickens, cows, and small mountain lions.”
“What? I don’t know about that,” she suspiciously eyes the worm.
“Then I guess you wouldn’t know about the serious damage they’ve caused ever since they were accidentally brought over from
“Whoa,” she stares at the earthworm with new caution. As she watches the worm twisting its way back into the ground, her mom waves at us, motioning at us to come back to the beach.
“How about we head back to the water?”
“Nno, the water’s boring. Bugs are more fun.”
“Ah, but in the water there be monsters. Ever heard of the giant squid?”
“No…”
“It’s the size of a bus, with huge long tentacles and a huuuge beak – ”
“A beak?”
“Yeah, and it’s mortal enemy, the sperm whale, dives all the way down to the deep – where the squid lives – just to battle it out.”
“No way! We hafta get to the water!”
“Alright, let’s go!”
We dashed down to the beach, where she dove into the water to grapple with imaginary monsters. Startled by the display of voracity, her mom leaned over and asked, “What did you tell her?”
“I just told her about giant squids and sperm whales.”
“I suppose she’ll be wanting some books on the deep then. We just bought her that series on insects, you know.”
“Yeah.”
“And just last week she was in the backyard climbing trees to have a word with the birds.”
“Good idea, those crows can be a damned nuisance.”
“I wonder if she’ll ever settle on one subject.”
“Well, probably not.”
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