Grossout warning on this one for those of you who don't like insects . . .
The girls and I are visiting my parents this week. Yesterday Dad and I took Babybartfast out fishing (by canoe) - her first time. She got sick of fishing halfway through and proceeded to name all the worms (waxworms, actually - little white caterpillars) and declare they're her "new best friends" and they all love her very much. Then yesterday evening she demanded to be allowed to read them a bedtime story and sing them a good-night song before putting them back in "their room", i.e. the spare fridge. Today she spent a good hour playing with them on the front porch. (My strict "no insects intentionally in the house" rule extends to grandparents' homes . . .)
The fun part: I went up to change into pajamas tonight and discovered that a) Babybartfast had left her discarded shorts on my bed, and b) SHE HAD WORMS IN HER POCKETS. Now in my sheets.
Yeah, I changed those sheets fast and checked VERY thoroughly for any escapees. Luckily waxworms are dry and not really all that gross. My parents are the ones laughing the most, though, because apparently I used to bring home similar "surprises" all the time when I was Babybartfast's age . . .
When my boys were preschool/early elementary school age I had to make them turn out their pockets at the front door to make sure there were no worms or other new "pets" coming in the house.
Also, I have a little brother a few months younger than my youngest. One day my brother and my youngest were outside playing (read worm hunting). They were about 5 years old. Anyway, suddenly, my brother comes in the house shouting "Look, mmswm! Look at the really big
worm I found." I looked over, sighed, and told him to get the snake out of my house.