Bites of spring

For any of you out there still confused on the point, the difference between a 3-year-old and an adult is that when the First Fly of Spring (much less celebrated than the boring old First Robin) is discovered in the house, the adult will begin hunting him with a cup and paper (or a flyswatter, if you're into big gross messes), while the 3-year-old will instantly decide that not only will this fly answer when called, but that his name must logically be Buzzy.

We were successful in sending lil Buzzy out into the world today, but I have a feeling he was just the first of many of his ilk who will grace our apartment this year, based on the fact that it's still March and it's only been mildly warm (40s-50s) for a few days already.

I thought I might be imagining it when I first heard that familiar buzzing against the window this morning, but alas, the sight of poor Buzzy mercilessly abusing his exoskeleton in sheer fury told me I was not. Oh well, at least he isn't a biting blackfly like back in Maine.

I think we'll just spend the next few months pretending the same fly is sneaking back into our apartment over and over again, since that seems like more fun.

And so it shall be. Welcome to our home, Buzzy.