It’s June Bug time here in Ohio. Always fun. Surrounding towns have been known to have to bring in heavy machinery to scoop them up off the roads. We’re used to it. No biggie. My youngest son had one land on his arm, and he said, “weally lil bird-ee.” It was oh-so-cute right up until it fluttered its tiny wings. He freaked, brought his chin down, and smashed it. He didn’t seem to like my answer that the June Bug was dead. He took it and put it back on his hand, and continued to sing “weally lil bird-ee” over and over again. I’m not sure if this is cute, sad, or just plain creepy. My creep-o-meter is a bit skewed compared to others, so the jury is still out.