The Attack of the Itch Bugs

Monday, July 10, 2006

Monday was a gray day with rain in the afternoon.

At breakfast that morning Mom mentioned that Linnea would like to go swimming before the heat of the day came on.

“Little buttercup,” Mom said to her, as Linnea ate her scrambled eggs.

“I’m not a buttercup,” Linnea said calmly, “I’m an evil warrior.”

Later morning, Mom ran some errands while she dropped off Collette and Rose to be lifeguards at Libby’s pool while Collette tutored Rose, and Joe and Linnea went swimming. The girls sat in the gazebo while Joe carried around Linnea and threw her into the pool. Somewhere during that time Rose began to itch and scratch.

“Ah!” She gasped, grabbing at her arm. “An itch bug!”

Collette didn’t pay much attention to Rose’s scratching as she quizzed her on the Minoan civilization, until she began to notice the crawling specks herself.

“Arg! Squish!” Rose exclaimed every time she found a wiggling speck on her arm and smashed it.

Then Collette found them on her own person.

The girls spend the rest of the hour pulling wood mites, or “squish bugs” as Rose called them, off each other’s necks and arms. They must have looked like monkeys, but the miniature monsters were everywhere, and they bit good.

Fortunately there were hot showers, soap, and washing machines back at the house, which was their first stop after Mom had picked them up.

And by the time OLeif came home that night, the itch bugs were practically forgotten as Collette prepared a hot lasagna for dinner and the rain of the week came in.