People Laugh at Me

Although my parents are unwilling to confirm it, I know that a gigantic bug with an especially painful bite terrorized and then attacked me when I was a defenseless baby.
It altered my psyche and I’m still reeling.  Because I was like, a baby, I wasn’t able to identify the species.  So now, for safety reasons, I try to stay away from all of them.  When accidental contact is made, I’m a spastic screamer, arm flappy, jump-around freak.  People laugh at me.

Logically, I know that this is what a tick looks like. 

I also know (thanks to the trauma I mentioned having to endure as a tiny sweet baby), that this is what they’re actually like.  Yes, those are talons.

Even without the assistance of much needed therapy, I’m making some progress.             I’m trying really hard to be the kind of mom who can appreciate the awesomeness that jumping into a pile of leaves is for Tucker.  I use the word “trying” because while his laughter brings me great joy, I can’t help but think about all of the spiders, ticks, snakes, centipedes, crickets and other scary little creatures nesting, hungrily waiting among the leaves.

Could it be possible that bugs just really like me and are trying to forge a friendship?
Come to think of it, I am always the one with the most mosquito bites.  Maybe they’re really all like this:

Probably not.  Even if they were, they move too quickly for me to determine whether their intent is to harm or to form a lasting friendship.  I’ll keep smushing and flushing them.  And yes, I always flush them after I smush them.  Because, you know, they might be faking it with evil plans to pay me back later.

You’re not laughing with me right now, are you.