As I waited on line for a cup of Chex mix with crickets, I thought maybe this wasn’t a very good idea. We were at the Natural History Museum for Bug Fair (which, by the way, was sponsored by an extermination company without a trace of irony). Among the tables of unusually large millipedes, brightly colored butterflies, roaches that hissed and beetles the size of nightmares, was a man in a funny hat, cooking insects. WonderWife™ said that eating bugs happened to be on her list of things she always wanted to do. The Bean picked up on this and announced, “I’m hungry for bugs.”
I had no intention of trying them. As much as I love food, Anthony Bourdain I am not. But I was more than happy to procure the insect feast for the adventurous half of my family.
The Bean picked up his “food buggie” and popped it into his mouth. WonderWife™ quickly followed suit. A small crunch could be heard and almost simultaneously, my wife and my son were spitting out partially chewed cricket pieces onto the ground.
I give them both a lot of credit, especially the Bean. He’s a kid that I have to force to eat a chicken nugget, but will happily try a bug without any prompting. But I don’t think he’ll be eating bugs again anytime soon. Later that evening when we were playing outside, he turned to me and said, “Those bugs were awful!”