Before I write this, I have to state for the record that I am a pretty normal person, haven't had any psychological trauma (that I know of!), and I am completely sane. Usually.
I am going to have Boo release her ladybugs either today or tomorrow, at the latest. I can't stand them anymore. They are vile, wretched bugs. In fact, I feel so sickened by them right now that I don't think I'll ever look at another ladybug again without remembering today.
The last ladybug larvae guy (#14) to "assume the position" (the larvae would latch themselves to the side of the dome, and about a day later they would turn into the white wormy thing), was also the last ladybug (#14) to hatch yesterday. I was watching him pull his way out of his "cocoon" (I don't know what it's called for a ladybug!). Another ladybug walked over to him as #14 was just about out of his shell thing, and appeared to get stuck on his wet exterior. #14 was struggling to walk, and the other ladybug seemed like his front legs couldn't un-stick. After watching this for a little bit, I got a long water dropper and stuck it in the dome to detach the two of them. All seemed ok, except #14's wing was a little out of sorts.
Last night I told DH that I felt terrible because (now that #14's shell had hardened up) you could obviously see that he was cracked and would never fly. He was having a hard time getting around like everybody else and I told DH that I thought he might be D-Y-I-N-G because I had H-U-R-T him (had to spell since Boo was in the room). He was still alive this morning.
We ran a few errands today, and got home just a bit ago. I peeked in there to see how #14 was doing, and realized that one of the other ladybugs is eating him. I am totally crying! How on earth did I get so attached to a bug?! Seriously, I am really feeling some emotion for that little guy. A true hatred for the ladybug who is devouring him! What am I going to tell Boo (who counts them everyday) when she realizes that she only has 13?
More than anything else, I am sad because the happy image I've always had of ladybugs - the cute little dotted guys that are fun to catch and play with in the backyard, the adorable ladybugs who decorate my girls' clothes, the pretty ladybug design that I wanted to do the baby's room in when she's older - all of that is ruined because I feel so sick right now. I realize it's probably natural selection or something. He was the "runt" of their little group...the last one in and the last one out. It just makes me feel so bad for him, and I can't help but blame myself because maybe if I hadn't interfered, he would've gotten himself unstuck from the other bug.
I want the rest of them gone. I don't care that the book says it has to be 55 degrees outside for them to survive. It'll get colder than 55 at night, but right now I don't care if they all freeze their spots off. Well, I don't care if the one eating #14 freezes his spots off.
I can't believe that I cried over a bug.
I am going to have Boo release her ladybugs either today or tomorrow, at the latest. I can't stand them anymore. They are vile, wretched bugs. In fact, I feel so sickened by them right now that I don't think I'll ever look at another ladybug again without remembering today.
The last ladybug larvae guy (#14) to "assume the position" (the larvae would latch themselves to the side of the dome, and about a day later they would turn into the white wormy thing), was also the last ladybug (#14) to hatch yesterday. I was watching him pull his way out of his "cocoon" (I don't know what it's called for a ladybug!). Another ladybug walked over to him as #14 was just about out of his shell thing, and appeared to get stuck on his wet exterior. #14 was struggling to walk, and the other ladybug seemed like his front legs couldn't un-stick. After watching this for a little bit, I got a long water dropper and stuck it in the dome to detach the two of them. All seemed ok, except #14's wing was a little out of sorts.
Last night I told DH that I felt terrible because (now that #14's shell had hardened up) you could obviously see that he was cracked and would never fly. He was having a hard time getting around like everybody else and I told DH that I thought he might be D-Y-I-N-G because I had H-U-R-T him (had to spell since Boo was in the room). He was still alive this morning.
We ran a few errands today, and got home just a bit ago. I peeked in there to see how #14 was doing, and realized that one of the other ladybugs is eating him. I am totally crying! How on earth did I get so attached to a bug?! Seriously, I am really feeling some emotion for that little guy. A true hatred for the ladybug who is devouring him! What am I going to tell Boo (who counts them everyday) when she realizes that she only has 13?
More than anything else, I am sad because the happy image I've always had of ladybugs - the cute little dotted guys that are fun to catch and play with in the backyard, the adorable ladybugs who decorate my girls' clothes, the pretty ladybug design that I wanted to do the baby's room in when she's older - all of that is ruined because I feel so sick right now. I realize it's probably natural selection or something. He was the "runt" of their little group...the last one in and the last one out. It just makes me feel so bad for him, and I can't help but blame myself because maybe if I hadn't interfered, he would've gotten himself unstuck from the other bug.
I want the rest of them gone. I don't care that the book says it has to be 55 degrees outside for them to survive. It'll get colder than 55 at night, but right now I don't care if they all freeze their spots off. Well, I don't care if the one eating #14 freezes his spots off.
I can't believe that I cried over a bug.
posted by Beth @ 3:09 PM
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