Pickin' Up Worms

On rainy mornings, the worms come out. Trying to get out of their waterlogged homes, they commit suicide on our sidewalks, driveways, and roads. I always feel guilty walking past a worm that I know will soon die. Over the years, however, I have come to ignore most of that guilt knowing I have so many more important things to do than save as many worms as I can before the sun takes their lives from them. To assuage this guilt (and the eew factor), I have taught my children to pick up the worms and put them in the grass. Perhaps I am only passing the guilt on to future generations, but I like to think instead that I am teaching compassion. My girls notice the creatures around them and know they have the power to give a chance of life to the helpless. They love doing it. After dropping Tiffany off at the bus, Katie and Emily slowly walk home looking for worms in the gutters and on the sidewalks. I happily point the worms out to the girls, as I seem to have a better eye for such things. I am amazed that Emily's little fingers are the absolute best for picking worms from cracks and crevices. I am more prone to injure the soft bodies, so I have given up trying to pick up the small ones. In fact, I've given up picking them up at all, content to pointing them out with the toe of my shoe. I relish in the joy and fun my girls get from such a simple thing.