What good are neighbors?

Pretty darn good, I must say. This morning I sent my non-bug touching son across the street to fetch a bug-catching, 9 year-old. Yes, I walked through my kitchen this morning to find a little baby grasshopper just sitting there on my kitchen island.

There's only two people in my household that would have been able to help with this odd crisis. My co-head of household, my husband. He would have scooped it up in a cup or something and shooed it outside. The other option, my own 9 year-old daughter; I've seen her catch lightening bugs and put them in a jar. Surely she could have shooed a grasshopper out of the house.

The dilemma, neither of them were home. Hubbie was at work already, and the 9 year old is having a wonderful time spending the weekend watching her cousin compete in some little miss pageant.

My only son is just as squeamish as the majority of his sisters, so he wouldn't do it. Don't think I didn't ask him if he was capable. So, I sent the boy upstairs to get dressed and then go fetch one of the neighbor boys. My neighbor, kiddie corner, across the street has three boys. There's no way their squeamish. I requested the oldest one, the others wouldn't have done, one is six the other in diapers.

My 9 year-old neighbor saved the day. Still in his spongebob squarepants pajamas and some imitation crocs, he tries to pick up the little grasshopper from the counter and it, of course, hops to the floor, which sends my 11 year old across the room. She doesn't want anything to do with the grasshopper or any bug, insect or anything else that falls into that category.

My 7 year old son is holding the patio screen door open cheering on the neighbor as he tries to pick it up again, it hops again. After a few more attempts, he manages to get it closer to the open doorway. He eventually gets hold of it and tosses the little grasshopper back into the yard where he belongs.