Every spring I know it’s coming.
I buy extra bottles of bug repellent, extra tubes of cortisone cream & I wait.
I wait for the onslaught.
I wait for the torture.
. . .
for the mosquitoes!
Ugh. I have always believed that there is some element in my pheromones that attract bugs. There has to be. There is a reason that my mom and I get eaten alive by the filthy little creatures despite trying every bug repellent, citronella candle, not wearing perfume & deodorant (thinking maybe the smell attracts them)(and only when we don’t have plans to go anywhere–don’t worry) and my dad and sister can be outside for hours at a time and hardly have any bug bites at all.
The reason is simple.
Mom and I taste better than my dad and sister.
And apparently, I’ve passed the mutated gene onto my son. This morning, he woke up this morning with three mosquito bites on his forehead. Three! We weren’t outside at dusk. We don’t have any standing water in our yard. We weren’t breaking any of the mosquito-fearing rules! Apparently, the little assholes snuck in our house while my baby boy was sleeping and bit him while he was dreaming up new ways to humiliate me make my life more difficult profess his undying love for his momma.
I’m not sure if I’ve also passed this dreaded gene on to my daughter.
She might be safe, but I guess it’s still too early to tell.
Or maybe, she’s just not ripe enough yet.
Does anybody have any tricks that actually work?
Because, at this point, I’m ready to put garlic around the perimeter of our house or sacrifice a chicken or some other weird thing that might work. Give me your ideas, people!