Growing up I remember hunting for cicada shells, skin, whatever you call it, at night with my dad and brothers. I used to love doing that. Every year summer rolled around and I heard the sound of cicadas I would instantly be happy because I was reminded of my fun "cicada night hunts". However, because of the cicada swarm of 2011 in Nashville I hate the sound of cicadas. I am not joking or exaggerating when I say that there were hundreds of thousands of cicadas flying around town last summer for 2 full weeks. I hated leaving the house. I lost count at how many times I got pelted in the head or face by a stupid cicada. The worst part was they screamed when they hit you. It was horrifying. And I was 7.5 months pregnant back then, so trying to speed walk from my car to the door with a 1.5 year old was hilarious. Just to creep you out, here's a picture of a tree during those 2 weeks.
Terrifying, right? That's how every tree looked. Gross. So this summer when the cicadas starting singing, I immediately got shivers down my spine. The fond memories that used to flood my mind were no longer even a distant thought... all I could picture was what those trees looked like and the sound they made when they hit you. Yesterday afternoon when my little family was coming inside from a walk, Chris spotted a cicada coming out of it's skin. He pointed it out to Josiah and all Josiah wanted to do was touch it. He kept saying "touch it, touch it, touch it". I quickly peaced out with Layla. I was coming down the stairs after I had put her down for a nap and Chris said "Josiah has something for you mommy." I thought that he had taken the live cicada and wanted to show it to me. I started to freak out, but Chris assured me it was just the skin. Josiah had it on his shoulder (something I used to do and thought was hilarious). Chris then told me that Josiah touched the cicada over and over again, and then he showed me this:
Hopefully, next summer, I won't be horrified at the thought of cicadas and I can enjoy hunting cicada skins at night with my little bug man.