And What Did You Have For Breakfast?

The results of the Power Rangers ban have shown more quickly than I would have expected. Elan and Ariel still play with the toys, still dress in the costumes a few times a week, but the interest level - especially for Elan - is clearly way down from where it was two weeks ago or whenever it was that I decided they could no longer watch the show.

Of course, that doesn't mean Elan has gone obsession-less for two weeks. Quite the contrary: he's stepped full-throttle into...wait for it...wait for it...BUGS.

Every mother's dream, I know. The truth is, he's always enjoyed a good bug hunt, but something happened when we were in Chicago. Sometime between when he first stepped onto the lawn at dusk, clad in pajamas, and the moment when he caught his first firefly - well, something must have clicked for him. A connection was born, Elan and insect. We don't have fireflies in L.A.

Since we got back, he spends most of his time finding bugs, nurturing them with Cheez-Its, and setting them free "so that they may find their Mommies and Daddies before bedtime so the Mommies and Daddies won't be wondering where their babies are." You understand.

And though I'm not much of a bug person myself, I'm also not one of those girls who freaks out at the sight of one. So I don't mind this new phase too terribly. It takes my kids outdoors, and we have plenty of soap around to undo things once they come inside. Plus, there's nothing like free entertainment: give Elan a plot of land, he's busy for hours.

When Elan did the dinosaur thing, we'd take weekly trips to the library, and he'd head straight for the natural history section, where he would choose ten science books on the topic. Lucky for us, the animal and insect non-fiction for kids sits just opposite that shelf, and it's our new home. We sit on the floor, prying through the pages, painstakingly limiting ourselves to just ten books out of the hundreds we want. Ok, that he wants. One book on cicadas is plenty for me.

So last night, after Ariel went to sleep and Elan's teeth were brushed, he and I cuddled on the sofa to make some headway on the stack of bug books. These aren't story books - he seems to find those pointless. Page after page, we examined each detailed photo, me quoting facts about each variety of insect to Elan, who mentally recorded every word. After each description, he'd get to the point: "But is that one nice? Or will it bite?" Read: if I happen upon such a creature in my travels from Magnolia to Chandler Boulevards, can I pick it up or will I die if I do?

He's nothing if not practical.

I explained to him the molting process, though I'm not honestly too clear on it myself, and he grasped it right away. We talked about metamorphosis, how a caterpillar encloses itself into what Elan calls a raccoon, before becoming a moth or butterfly. We learned the differences between moths and butterflies. Elan, recalling what Thor said at his birthday party, pointed to a picture in a book and immediately recognized that it was a tarantula shedding prickly hairs on the wolf attempting to kill it. He talked and talked and talked about the wonders of the underground world and I listened, yawning, enjoying every minute nonetheless.

The kid went to bed happy. This morning, Y was bringing the boys downstairs for breakfast, me still half-asleep, when I heard him call out, "Elan, come here! You won't believe this!"

Elan, sensing the urgency in his father's voice, came running. "What, Daddy? What is it? What did you OH MY GOD. OH. MY. GOD. THAT IS AMAZING."

Apparently, there was a gigantic centipede on the wall over the stairs. The kind he and I had read about just last night. Elan couldn't believe his luck.

"Quickly! Daddy, HURRY! Go get my bug-catcher! NOW! GO FIND MY BUG CATCHER!!!"

Y's best friend had gotten Elan this bug-vacuum thing that allows you to safely catch them. It's become his right arm.

Y asked Elan where it was, Elan told him, shouting, "HURRY, PLEEEEASE! IT'S GETTING AWAY! IT'S GETTING HIGHERONTHEWALL!"
Then, he remembered what we'd learned about centipedes: they bite. They aren't nice.
His first thought, remarkably, was for his brother.
"Ariel! Get away from here! I'm serious! This bug is dangerous: it could bite you."

Ariel, of course, was thrilled at the adventure, didn't want to be held back. "Da buggy bite Ariel?" he kept repeating, skeptically. It was going to take more than that to get him to abandon ship.

Y still couldn't find the bug catcher, and Elan was in a full-blown panic over the possibility of losing his treasure, so he stationed Y in charge of monitoring the poor, miserable centipede's position while he ran off to search for it himself. Moments later, he returned, empty-handed. "What are we going to do???" he wailed.

There are moments when I adore Y. This was one of them, because Y captured the centipede in a paper cup. What you should know, however, and what Elan doesn't yet know, is that, unlike me, Y is petrified of bugs like that. He really is. If he manages to step on a cricket, he asks me to clean it up, because the thought of scooping up the crunchy corpse in a tissue makes him vomit on command. He's a big guy, too, which makes it that much funnier.

But he saw how excited Elan was, so he rose to the occasion. Together, the three of them released the leggy thing outside, onto our balcony.

Elan came running into my bedroom to fill me in on what I'd (blessedly) missed. "Oh, Mommy, you wouldn't believe it, it was just like the ones we read about last night!"

You know how sometimes you'll randomly mention someone who you never see, and you never about, and then you bump into them for the first time in ten years the very next day? You know how you kind of feel like you made that happen?

Well that's how both Elan and I looked at the situation. Amazed that our little classroom work had been followed up with a spontaneous lab. Shocked, because we've never, ever had a centipede in our apartment before this morning. Thrilled (me) at having slept through it.

Nothing can compare to watching your kid learn something new, something that he enjoys so fully. I love that he loves things - even bugs, that he is so passionate about anything at all, at such a young age. I love watching his brain at work, filing away new facts for later recall and application.

And yes, I say this all well-aware that this unnervingly deep affection of his can go two possible ways for Elan: he could become a Nobel-prize winning scientist one day, or simply one of those freaky, 45-year old exotic bug collectors who can never, for the life of him, convince anyone to come over for a cup of tea.

I know.