Today, Baby Bear found a millipede out back. For over an hour he played with it, watched it, and enjoyed its little tickle as it crawled over his hand. He named it “Wormy.” Wormy got to ride in his favorite cars and look at his favorite books with him. Then he took Wormy outside to enjoy some fresh air and watch the cars drive by.

Then tragedy struck. My daughter went out with him and fell. I heard a tragic scream and a howl and went running to the door.

“Wormy’s broken! Wormy’s dead!”

My son wailed. Tears streamed down his face and he held the little millipede in his hand, broken in half and dead. He sobbed for his little friend in my arms and looked at the poor, dead little millipede. Finally, I asked him if he’d like to bury him like we did our puppy after he died. So he and his sister went out and made a tiny grave and he seemed to recover.

I never knew a millipede could be so important to a three year old!