Dad’s fear of bugs

An odd little incident at work the other day made me think of my dad. A ladybug appeared on my desk and proceeded to be my assistant for the rest of the day. It crawled around my desk, then attached itself to my coffee mug. They are supposed to be lucky so I let it hang out, even though I wonder how it made it to the 6th floor. I guess the elevator like the rest of us?

Anyways, it made me think of dad and his dislike of bugs. Picnics in California with him were spent with him slapping the air every time a winged insect entered his no-fly zone. I think he spent more time slashing the air with his arms like a windmill than actually enjoying the food. It drove my mom crazy, who was raised on a farm where she dealt with a wide variety of living creatures every day.

But I’m more like my dad. Oh, sure, cute little ladybugs don’t strike fear in my heart, and anything slow, like worms, is given a pass. But the big, fast-moving creatures, your spiders and roaches, those will send me screaming for help every time.

Anyways, as I observed the ladybug on my desk, I thought how ironic it would be if dad had been reincarnated as a bug. Dad, as long as you’re a ladybug, I won’t swat at or step on you, I promise.