Autumn brings black crickets. The noisy, jumpy kind that like to hide under piles of wooden alphabet blocks.
If I were a black cricket, i would definately invade the nearest toy-filled basement to enjoy the comforts thereof.
And if I were human (which i am), i would exercise my right to smash any insect that dared to enter my human dwelling. (We've got tough tenant requirements here, folks.)
So a-smashing i a-go.
Unless...
... one of my bug-loving kids is swift enough to catch one alive and brave enough to carry it to the sunroom door and chuck it across the patio, in which case said child will be rewarded with a nickel.
Piggy banks are overflowing, and I have a lot less guts on my floor.
