Ewwww.

I used to think it would be fun to be one of those tom-boyish girls who are all rough and tumble with their dirt and their jeans and their fishing poles, but then you stick them in the shower and they look all cute. [I mean, who doesn't want to be Mary Stuart Masterson, aka 'Bee Charmer'? And when I say, 'want to be,' I think I mean 'want.')
I remember once a long long time ago, I was standing in my dad's house, he was in a chair and my sister was on the couch. I saw a mouse skitter off in front of me. A real, live yicky mouse right there. I shrieked. Not just shrieked, actually. What I said was, "EEEEEK!" I remember this because my dad laughed at me and told me, in essence, that 'eek' is an onomatopoeia ('a word that imitates a sound in nature,' or something to that effect). People don't actually say eek, it's just a word that tries to captures that girly shriek that comes out when one sees a mouse skittering across right in front of her.

I guess I wasn't really meant to be a tomboy, though for a few (many) years there, I seemed to dress like I was ready, should the stirrings arise.

The other morning, I got to my class at the gym and there was a big 'thing' in the middle of the room. I couldn't tell what it was, and the lights are dim, so I went over and scootched it out of the way. I didn't think much about it -- maybe a formerly-wet paper towel or something that hadn't gotten swept up. A few seconds later, it looked like it had moved. I stared at it, but nothing. Then it looked like it had these long legs that were disconnected and stretching out like it was trying to walk. It was like a massive dust bunny that was taking shape.
I, naturally, stepped back, then stood staring at this little alien life with my mouth hanging open. I walked into the hall, but no one was coming. So I stood back again, wondering if it had alien friends that were going to descend on the gym.
Finally someone came in. Looked where I was looking, and said, 'there's a frog in here.'

A frog. Of course. Of course there's a frog in the Kinesis room. Why wouldn't there be. He stared at it too. Then he said he'd get the janitor (who's name I should know, but do not). Then this girl came in who obviously has the tom-boyish thing down because she looks cute enough, but also bent down and said, 'Oh, it's a frog. I'll take it outside.' She scooped it right up and cupped it in her hands.
This, too, gave me the willies, but at that point, I'm not the girl who shrieks at mice, I'm the teacher in a classroom. Instead I said, "good idea" and tried to rearrange my expression.
Let the record show, however, that last friday there was this big, giant, scary-looking roly poly bug on the aerobics room floor, and like the good, brave teacher I am, I scooped it up on my cue sheet (no small feat, as they tend to want to roll away) and scooted it right out the door.
And I didn't even get a medal.

Another chance to remind myself that whoever I am is just who I am. And frog-catching is not for everyone.