Of Neighbors and Varmits

The world's come alive in our little neck of the woods; even the neighbors have come out from their "winter" hibernation. We've been wondering where is everyone, anyway? Seriously, there have been plenty of sixty degrees days since we moved in three months ago, but nary a child on a bike, no conversations on a sidewalk. Nothing. (Then there's my little brood, running in sun dresses and tee-shirts on those balmy fifty-one degree mornings).

Apparently, seventy degrees is the threshold around here. It's been warm, warm, warm in central Ohio and the neighbors are out in droves. We've met more families in the last forty-eight hours than all our days here combined.

But we've also met some critters. Outside and in. There's a real beauty to living in the woods: deer, cardinals, blue jays, and bunnies abound. But we've also spotted snakes slithering under the playset (eek!) and a few strange bugs in the house.

Enter the Orkin man.

My children were very excited to have the red-tyed bug man in our home. They ran up, grabbed Toddzilla's little clip-on church ties, and paraded around searching for bugs. Not long before they rounded up flashlights, notebooks, and backpacks and off they went, in search of critters. Toddzilla followed the real Orkin man around, yelling singing "God is bigger than the Orkin Man!" Not sure our bug man knows this particular Veggie Tales song, but he seemed quite amused at all the fuss being made over him. I'm sure it's not everyday he has four apprentices clamoring for his position.

Bugs be gone! (Because I know Mr. Orkin doesn't want to come see us again.)