We have a lot of bug drama in this house.  Cave crickets.  Spiders.  Ants.  Mosquitoes.  They all set off whirlwinds of panic and screaming, among the young, and not so young.

It’s a late summer evening, and we’re out for a walk.  I’m pushing the boys in a stroller, and Samantha is on foot.  Ahead, I sense danger.  There’s a black cloud, a swarm of dragonflies, directly blocking our path.

Dragonflies.  Vicious and alien looking bugs.  Giant bugs.  Flying bugs.  I just pray that none of them touch one of the boys, and wonder how Simon will cope, tied down as he is in the stroller, unable to run.

Samantha catches sight of the swarm.  “Mama, what are those?”  We’re nearly among them now.

I answer as passively, as matter of fact, as I can.  “They’re dragonflies, darling.”

Both Samantha and Simon gasp, “DRAGONFLIES!”  We’re walking through them now.  They’re huge, and glinting in the last light of the setting sun.

All three children watch in rapt wonder as we slowly march through the floating dragonflies.

Simon sighs happily as we come out the other side.  “Dragonflies!”