Dear Itsy Bitsy Spider, Sorry About Your Folks
I’m gonna go out on a limb and confess. I’ve killed the Itsy Bitsy Spider’s parents. His brothers, sisters, cousins, numerous other kinfolk, and friends. Inside my house and out. (I swear, I keep a fairly clean house.) Dead. Scooped up in a tissue and flushed. Webs vacuumed up. Done. Later.
And all completed in stealth, hidden from my son. Because seriously, let’s talk about my son’s experience with insects. Let’s start with Itsy Bitsy himself. I have to give IB mad props; little guy is living the American dream. Knock him down and he’ll get right back up again. He’s the classic underdog and cute to boot. So what is Boo to think when mama goes around wiping out spiders?
This obviously speaks to a greater problem in our society. Why exactly do we glamorize bugs and other living things that gross me out? Humor me here.
On The Cat in the Hat, Mabel the spider teaches Nick and Sally about spinning her web and then teaches them how to weave. On yet another episode, a caterpillar named Mindy (a true Southern belle…what’s that about?) teaches them about making silk so Sally can fix her “swirly twirly princess dress.” Yup, they’re helpful, too. I could go on and on with examples from that show. On a fave episode of Curious George, George races worms. Yeah, I don’t get it either. He does it in the country; I’m thinking it’s a Maine thing. He goes so far as to take worms into the house and create a habitat for them. I know — it’s appalling.
For real when I see a worm, I flip out a little. If my kid so much as picked up a worm, I would flip out a lot. Because I am a wimp and entirely not fond of creepy, crawly, slimy things. Even fake ones. My three older brothers can attest to this. Let’s just say they had their fun with me. Frogs, turtles, you name it. Me no likey. I almost stayed home from school in the tenth grade on the day we were dissecting frogs (the final dissection in quite the series, I might add). Incidentally, my lab partner was an entirely unhelpful jock who was more skeeved out than I was. Useless dude.
I wouldn’t be surprised if I killed IB himself. I’m pretty sure I’ve killed all Ten Little Ladybugs. I try not to freak out too much in front of my son, but I can’t help it. I blame these damn shows and books for teaching my kid that these are benign creatures he should take into my house.
Little Miss Muffet, I am so with you, girl.