Apparently, the walking stick made the six-mile trip from our home, and hadn’t ventured very far during the time we were absent from the car.  At least Jen recalls seeing it when we first arrived at the waterpark.  

A debate ensues between Jen and Ariel.  Afraid that it will fall off somewhere on the return trip, Ariel wants to catch it and let it go in the parking lot.  Mom disagrees and insists that it will be just fine.  Given the fact that is survived the first leg of the journey, and the possibility that it will get crushed to a pulp in the parking lot, Mom’s logic, reasoning, and Final Say (TM) win out.

All I can do is shake my head and try to think calm, rationale thoughts while they fuss over this small, insignificant bug.  

We finally get everyone in the car and prepare to set off on the journey home.  As I’ve mentioned time and time again, the car is without A/C so I lower the windows a bit to let the cool, outside air sweep into the interior.  However, as I wasn’t completely oblivious to the preceding conversation, I am aware that the walking stick is on Braden’s window.  Thus I only lower it a fraction of what I lowered the other windows.

But as soon as the rest of the family notice the window going down, they all scream at the same time, “Dad, stop!  The walking stick is on Braden’s window!”  As if I was in my own little world and completely missed the preceding debate.  The well-being of this walking stick has suddenly taken precedence over everything else in the world.  Never mind that Pakistan and India are possibly on the verge of nuclear war.  Forget the fact that fourteen people perished in an unfortunate bridge collapse not too far from here.  Suddenly all that matters is the mortality of this little stick bug.  

Somehow in my mind, I’m trying to come up with some sort of “What can be learned from this situation?” life lesson.  But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m the one that can learn from the eyes of little ones.  I should commend them for their compassion and placing such a high value on life, even that of a mere insect.  And I must admit, Slim the Walking Stick from A Bug’s Life was quite a character.  And you tell me I don’t care for bugs.

As I pull out of the parking lot, the aerodynamics of the positioning of the walking stick suddenly becomes the next focal point.  

Jen:  “Poor thing, it isn’t quite positioned right so it’s poking out into the breeze.”

Ariel:  “Mom, it looks like it’s about to break in half any minute.”

[A very tense 30-seconds passes while Ariel, Jen, and Braden will the stick bug to move]

Ariel:  [relieved]  “Mom, it’s ok.  It moved just a little bit so it’s no longer quite poking out into the wind.”

I’m contemplating driving faster just to get rid of the little sucker, but logic and rationale finally get the better of me.  I realize that should the stick bug get blown off the window, I’m going to have a Full-Scale Pandemonium to deal with.  But this whole situation is starting to grate on my nerves regardless.

So during the eight and a half minute drive home, all the occupants of the car (minus moi) go on Heightened Walking Stick Life Watch (TM).  The entire conversation goes something like this:

Ariel:  “The walking stick is still there.  Poor thing.  It must be hard hanging on.”

Jen:  “Yeah, it is pretty strong.  But since it has to withstand wind gusts normally, it’s probably used to it.”

Ariel:  [voice full of concern]  “I can’t see it anymore, Mom.  Can you see it?  Is it still there?”

Jen:  “Yeah, it’s still there.  I can barely see it but it’s still there.  It’s on the rubber divider.”

[Continuous checks on the walking stick every 3.2 seconds]

By now, Braden is feeling the tension being exuded by Ariel, and so he has a very serious look on his face.  Somehow I knew that should this walking stick perish, I was going to have a Stage 1 DEFCON 5 3rd Degree Crisis (TM) on my hands.

I silently shake my head as I keep my rude comments to myself.  All this fuss over a bug.  Sheeesh.

We are nearly home and it seems that the 55mph wind shear has nearly done in the little insect as Jen reports, “it’s barely holding on...”  Both Ariel and Braden are almost to the verge of tears.  

Being a smart parent, Jen instructs me to slow down as there isn’t any traffic behind us.  

Being a smart husband, I listen and obey her without complaint, but thinking to myself, “I can’t believe I’m letting a bug dictate my actions.”

Slowing down seems to help a little bit, but not nearly enough.  We have to get off the main thoroughfare quickly if it is going to have a chance.  I’m already thinking about taking the next available turn to get onto residential streets with a lower speed limit as Jen instructs me to turn.

Again, I cannot believe that I’m actually going out of my way and taking the LONG way home simply to save the life of a baby walking stick.  What I do out of love for my family, I tell you.

Especially since there is no love lost between me and any creature with more than four legs.  Yep.  You got it.  Any bee, spider, ant, beetle, moth, ladybug (except my own Ladybug) better watch out if it intrudes into my personal space.  Don’t tell me how beneficial spiders are.  How many legs do they have?  Eight?  Is eight greater than four?  I rest my case.  

I especially have a love-hate relationship with mosquitoes.  I hate the fact that those nasty blood-sucking varmints love to poke their needlenose proboscis into my flesh.  My friends once joked it was because my blood was pure and unpolluted.  That may very well be the case, but mosquitoes are my Public Enemy #1.  Without fail, during the height of mosquito season, unless I’m walking around in a cloud of DEET, they somehow manage to get me even in the most hard-to-reach places.  I’m talking about through clothing, shoes, what have you.  And once bitten, twice shy.  I mean, once bitten, the point of impact swells up like a volcano about to erupt.  Not to mention itching like I’ve got an extreme case of poison ivy.  Yep.  Mosquitoes and I do not get along well at all.

I’ve always had this irrational fear of insects from when I was a child.  Those common house crickets found in basements?  They always looked extra large to me, and frightened me to no end.  Encountering a horde of those always struck fear into my heart as I wrote about once before in The Lo-Shia.  Even to this day as an adult, those house crickets still, for a lack of a better word, gross me out.  Yuck.  Just something about those big, fat cricket bodies that is so unsightly to me.

This Tale of the Walking Stick does have a happy ending though.  Upon reaching our destination, everyone disembarked to make sure the baby walking stick was in one piece.  Ariel gently caught it and released it into the wild where I’m sure it got ate by the nearest bird.  I mean, where I’m sure it lived happily ever after.  Crisis averted once again thanks to me, Dad and Husband of the Millennium, thankyouverymuch.  

As ludicrous as this story turned out, it is completely true and the names have not been changed to protect the guilty.  All I can say is, the next time I find any sort of bug on my car, I’m going to put it where all bugs belong – in that Big Place Up in the Sky.