My twelve year-old sister just got in from walking home from school.
'There are hundreds of worms out there dying!'
It has been raining today. So the worms had a rain dance that obviously resulted in failure. All over the sidewalk.
She has been ranting and raving about the 'evil ninth-graders' who step on the pathetic sickos. And the fact that if it weren't for the worms, we wouldn't be eating fresh fruit.
So I wonder if I would still be able to eat dried mangoes and canned peaches, if it weren't for the worms.
But that is beside the point.
She continued shouting with self-declared authority as she marched down the stairs to retrieve a bucket that would become the worms' lifeboat.
And then my dad explained that worms do that, sometimes. And that it's just life. Or death, as the case may be. Even though I already tried to explain that to her. She doesn't think I am a very reliable source, apparently.
She is currently distracted by a novel. The worms are currently remaining on the sidewalk.
Distraction runs in the family.