Friday, May 4, 2012

The baby ate a pill bug.

Her culinary experimentation didn’t stop there, either.  I was making photocopies at the church, allowing her to crawl around the workroom at my feet.  She crawled toward a corner and I heard her hacking and gagging.  I looked down and saw that she was poised near a pile of bug carcasses and when I asked her if she had something in her mouth, she drooled out a small gray remnant of rollie-pollie shell.  Although she seemed none the worse for it, I had to take a deep breath to avoid the dry-heave sensation that welled up in my gut.  Within a few days of the pill bug ingestion, I looked down at my precious bundle of purported “sugar, spice, and everything nice,” to find her smiling up at me with a ring of drool around her mouth that had two, tell-tale, translucent fly wings dangling in it.  While I was, again, disgusted, she seemed only proud of her ability to provide her own provisions.  In retrospect, I wish I’d gotten a picture, but at the time I couldn’t get those wings off her face fast enough.

This is all new to me.  My oldest daughter, the model of decorum, never put anything in her mouth but food.  My middle daughter, the scavenger, never put anything in her mouth that hadn’t at least at one time been food.  An M&M was an M&M, no matter how long it had lain beneath the shelf at Target waiting for her.  Now my youngest is putting me through the paces, happily chomping down on anything that her fine motor skills allow her to capture.

As we experience our first spring since the move to an acreage, and what with my baby’s ambitious critter consumption, I’m realizing that I’m going to have to step it up in one of two ways, or both: tighter supervision of the baby to intervene before the insect gets into her mouth, or acceptance of insects as potential nourishment.  If she likes bugs, we have a smorgasbord now.

There are, however, some flying insects that walk on all fours that you may eat: those that have jointed legs for hopping on the ground. Leviticus 11:21

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