The kids found a dead cricket yesterday. They were going to keep him as a pet - which , if I'm perfectly honest is exactly the kind of pet I'd like the kids to have. The dead cricket would never need to be fed or let out. He wouldn't bark in my face while I'm sleeping, poop like a horse, or pant hot dog-breath in my face. He'd never barf on my floor after consuming untold amounts of dirt and garbage, try to sneak food off the table, or eat anything out of the trash can. We wouldn't have to make arrangements for his care when we left town, and the best part would be that the dead cricket wouldn't shed all over my house! YES! Please, God, Yes! Let's keep the cricket! But after a lengthy discussion of the pros and cons of having a dead cricket for a pet, they decided instead to bury the poor little guy in the flower-bed. They laid him to rest in their carefully dug cricket grave, filled it back in with dirt, gave it a reassuring little pat, and then went hunting for some bugs they could catch alive.
Sneaking around the side of the house with their bucket, they scanned the plants for a good specimen. And they found one. They captured him while he was feasting on the sunflowers. They created a little bug-house out of an old plastic container and sat watching him for a while. After much observation, Landis decided that what this new bug needed was a little companionship. A little companionship from a dead cricket. He wanted to dig him back up.
Me: Landis, let's not dig up the cricket. He's dead, so he wouldn't really be a good companion for your new bug. Let's just let him rest in peace.
Landis: He pees?
Me: No. "Rest in PEACE".
Gibson: Peace. It means quiet.
Landis: (Nodding solemnly) Ohhhhhhhhhh......... He rests in quiet. AND he pees.
Surprising no one
2 years ago