Becky's bug-out

Time for some light-hearted blogs...early last Sunday morning I got up and noticed a light on in Becky's room. Now this is unusual for 6 in the morning, and then I heard the tv on. So I went downstairs and there she was on the couch, wide-eyed, watching Ten Things I Hate About You. This also was unusual, so I asked her why she was up. She plunged right in to this story about a huge creature in her bedroom with eyes and claws and things staring out at her from a coffee cup on her mini tv upstairs. I'm thinking, "Mouse?" EEWWWW....I'd be downstairs, too. She said it was a huge bug and she was terrified and took a ziploc bag upstairs to throw over the coffee cup and it fell, and she was afraid it was crawling in her clothes pile and there might be eggs and millions more and she ran out of the house and stepped on a slug in her bare feet. I'm still thinking, "Ok, large bug...well, we do have centipides sometimes...large bug...". And then I remembered-my husband found a dead beetle like four days ago and stuck it on our kitchen table by my book pile to scare me. Since I'm a veteran of bug collecting from middle school and really like them, it didn't phase me. Being I disappointed his hopes, he took the beetle and put it in Beck's room, posed over the lip of a coffee cup so claws and eyes were visible. Well, we both forgot about it because Beck was gone for like three days visiting friends and doing her summer social scene. I was laughing by then, but she still did not entirely see the humor, and then got a spontaneous nose bleed.

So when my husband came downstairs that morning for breakfast there was a present on the table in front of his chair-a tin with a dead beetle in it and a little note that said, "Thanks, Dad, for giving me 6 million heart attacks and a night of no sleep. Love, Becky". And by two drops of blood on the paper she added, "P.S. And a nose bleed from the stress". Another story to add to the annals of Obaza lore that will be exaggerated and added to until it is unrecognizably ridiculous upon numerous retellings. We're just one big happy family. (No one is safe!)