Creepy Crawly Molly McMillen

“Molly Christine McMillen! What in the world is this?” My mom scorns, as she drags one of her best tupperware dishes out from under my pink, Disney princess bed. My wide, five-year-old eyes look up at her with bewilderment and fear, yet with secret pride. I do not meet my mother’s gaze; instead, my focus remains intently on the treasure I had concealed in that thick, hard plastic dish. Dark, wet mud paints the sides of the tupperware a beautiful black-brown, but the mud is not what I am interested in. It’s the worms.

At first glance, I look like the typical California girly girl. Blonde, bouncy curls frame a pale, bubbly face; bubble-gum pink fingernails decorate hands that suggest “the only dirt I touch is in my ‘Dead Sea Mud Face Mask’”; a trendy skirt, heart shaped sunglasses, and a Starbucks drink in one of the pretty, pink paws complete the stereotypical look. By all appearances, I really am that girl; but what many don’t see, is my passion for that which does not typically mix with such a—well, prissy—façade. For as long as I can remember I have had a unique fascination with insects, rodents, reptiles, and creatures of all kinds. Creepy, crawly, or cuddly, it makes no difference. If it’s alive, it captures my curiosity.

...