Traumatized.

It's easy to scare me.  Just tell me a ghost story.  Or have me watch a slightly scary movie.  Or have me go outside in the dark.  Or go camping.

Really easy to scare me.  Really easy for my 3 older brothers to scare me.  This time it was brother #2.  Some call him Daniel.

We were hanging out a few weeks back at the Swannanoa Gathering and there was this ginormous bug on the wall.  Daniel, of course, knew the name of it.  I call it "big ugly scary bug."

I'm sorry, but is that not one of the ugliest bugs you've ever seen in your entire life?

I don't do bugs.  I hate them.

And I was holding Daniel's baby.  Sweet Rylie.

One would think that he wouldn't throw that bug at me while I'm holding his precious child, right?

I was safe, right?

Nope.  He poked it and prodded it and told me stories about how it was a late bloomer because they're only supposed to hatch every 7 years or something.  And then the bug went airborne, and I'm pretty sure he aimed straight towards me.  And that bug was LOUD.

The baby nearly went flying.

Just add it to the stories of torment from my childhood.

Did I mention I hate bugs?

Oh, and I didn't actually throw the baby.  She's fine.  Other than the fact that she has Daniel for a dad and Spud for a brother.