One morning, while the girls and I were hanging out outside, a yellow jacket flew by. I screeched, and it dropped dead. Just fell to the ground. No longer. Personally, I think I might’ve scared it. I think those yellow jackets know better than to mess with the lady who squashes them with her shoe when they fly into her home. Or maybe he was just being kind. “I’ll just save her the agony of having to end me when I enter her home. She’s such a nice person. Funny, too.” (New readers of this blog: I’m terrified of any sort of bee. I have about ten posts where I discuss my fear. I even wrote a letter to the yellow jackets. I don’t think they read it, though.)
Do you see it lying there? It is kind of sad, isn’t it? Except that it’s not.
Anyway, Hadley took note of the incident which prompted this discussion:
“Does everything die?”
“What about palm trees? Do they die?”
“Right, because they get cut down and then they die.”
“Then Harper adds, “Yea, like I have palm trees in my dino box.”
That seems about the right amount of mental and emotional energy one can give to this topic on a warm summer day, so I just left it at that: palm trees in a dino box.