This afternoon, Madeline came running into the house from the back porch yelling "bee, bee". Fortunately (or confusingly), this is her term for any flying bug... not necessarily those with stingers and yellow & black stripes. She then presented me with a fly that she had proudly squished between her fingers. I figured that the cat had pounced on the fly previously and Madeline had merely collected it for disposal. I made an appropriate amount of "ewww, yucky" comments, cermoniously disposed of the carcass in the trash, rewarded M with an extended handwashing session at the kitchen sink and let her resume her play on the porch. When I heard the bee call again, I was shocked and quickly went to investigate -- especially to make sure that there wasn't actually a bee to worry about. To my surprise, M was chasing flies around the porch and actually catching them between her fingers (with a little assistance from the window screens). What the heck?!
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