Catch and Release

So Mark comes up to me with a stinkbug in his hand.  A dead stinkbug.  Very dead.  Upside down, legs curled up.

Mark:  “I caught this tinkbug.  I’m going to take him outside and rewease him into da wild.”

Me:  “Okay.”

On the porch, Mark waves his hand, clearly attempting to help launch the bug into freedom’s first flight.  The stinkbug falls to the floor.

Me (because I’m basically not a nice person, even to my own children):  “Did he fly away yet?”

Mark (neither daunted nor perturbed):  “He’s taking a rest first.”

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