When Eleanor was younger (although not that much younger) I would say good night to her with the old poem:
Take a pot, and boil them till they're red and hot!
Take your bed and squish them till they're good and dead!
In all those years, she never wanted to know what a bedbug was, or if she really had to be worried about them.
I had been hesitating to say the poem to Amanda. I'm not even sure that I knew why, except that my vague misgivings were confirmed the other night when I told Amanda the poem. "Mom, what's a bedbug? Are they real? Do we have bedbugs? If we did, would we really use our shoe? Can they climb under our sheets? How do you get rid of them?" I answered as best I could---we don't have any, they're real, we'd wash the sheets in really hot water... Bedtime was a bit later that night.
Then tonight, I said the poem again. She piped up, "Nooo, we wouldn't use our shoe! We'd wash the sheets!" I think perhaps I'll find a different way to say goodnight to Amanda...
BTW, our local science museum has a microscope where you can look at live dust mites. Since we have skin, I'm almost 100% sure we have dust mites. But seeing those little guys crawling around on the scrap of sheet made me want to wash our sheets on the sanitary cycle. And take the hottest shower I could manage.
Good night! Sleep Tight!She thought it was pretty funny, and Eleanor made up more verses:
Don't let the bedbugs bite!
But if they do, take your shoe,
And beat them till they're black and blue!
Take a pot, and boil them till they're red and hot!
Take your bed and squish them till they're good and dead!
In all those years, she never wanted to know what a bedbug was, or if she really had to be worried about them.
I had been hesitating to say the poem to Amanda. I'm not even sure that I knew why, except that my vague misgivings were confirmed the other night when I told Amanda the poem. "Mom, what's a bedbug? Are they real? Do we have bedbugs? If we did, would we really use our shoe? Can they climb under our sheets? How do you get rid of them?" I answered as best I could---we don't have any, they're real, we'd wash the sheets in really hot water... Bedtime was a bit later that night.
Then tonight, I said the poem again. She piped up, "Nooo, we wouldn't use our shoe! We'd wash the sheets!" I think perhaps I'll find a different way to say goodnight to Amanda...
BTW, our local science museum has a microscope where you can look at live dust mites. Since we have skin, I'm almost 100% sure we have dust mites. But seeing those little guys crawling around on the scrap of sheet made me want to wash our sheets on the sanitary cycle. And take the hottest shower I could manage.
Comments
It is all a bit creepy if you think about it, but perhaps no less so than other stories we tell children.
FNDP