So there I was, risking my life, perched precariously atop the little red wagon, waving a broom frantically above my head, reaching desperately for the roofline...all in an effort to recapture Manny the Praying Mantis. Manny has been in our lives for about 3 days now. He resides in an oversized jar which is, at all times, generously stocked with grasshoppers. He seems to feel quite at home; at least it would seem so by the fact that he was not shy about ripping the head off one of said grasshoppers and quickly consuming it. A pretty cool event to observe!

Manny's caretakers are very sensitive to his need for exercise and fresh air and daily allow him to roam outside of his jar. Today, however, something must have gone terribly awry because I glanced outside the laundry room to see my first born risking her life, perched precariously atop the little red wagon, waving a broom...well, you know the story: I assumed the risk, and Manny was indeed recaptured. Tragedy averted.

As the boys were wrestling Manny back into his glass dwelling, I overheard Jacob say, "Now Manny, you don't get any more playtime today!" They're so very skilled at meting OUT the punishment!