We live in a quiet little neighborhood on the outskirts of town. You wouldn't suspect what kind of horrors live under the grass of our suburban back yard. Trillions and trillions of worms. Late at night, when the smell of rain (what? here?) hangs in the air, the grass literally teems with the things.
On a sunny morning like today, Boobah and Bug can be found out in the freshly mowed yard and wet, mulched gardening beds, digging for wiggly, slimy treasure. Their shoes weighted with a pounds of mud and their fingernails are nice and black. Long after they are done digging, they are still clutching a handful of something in their little fists. Yep, the worms. Bug really likes to put his worms in his pockets. One day, outside the grocery store, I discovered that he was still carrying around a pocketful of this fish bait. When I made him throw them out the window, all the boys laughed, amused that one of them had stuck to the outside of the glass. Such cheap fun.
