the. bungalow. post.

Garden trolls.  They confound you with their mischievous glee and leave you simultaneously joyful and infuriated.  I distinctly avoided books like the Cat in the Hat and Amelia Bedilia and the one cartoon Lilo and Stitch....As a kid I could never equate messy with funny.   I still can't.

But here I am dealing with a particularly horrid beast.  Cora, of course.  She pleasures in grinding baby green caterpillars between her claws of fleshy steel.  She hunts them down and tries to drown them in the dog's water bowl. (A great pesticide if your four year doesn't want to save them for his habitat)  She will rip your herb's roots from their damp dark safety and watch them burn and dry up in the sun.  She's little, she's round, but she moves with fire in her toes.

The world is her playground and she is having the time of her life.  She owns it with no responsibility or grave consequence.   She is so happy and is befuddled at your outbursts over her destructive joy.

I can see her storming the gates of hell with Jesus, once her brain is fully developed, and by prayer and petition she progresses in sympathy and empathy.