My Dear Son likes worms. A lot. He has recently decided that he likes to hold the wiggly, slimy things in the palm of his hands, and once he gets a hold of one, he doesn't like to put it down. Last week he glommed onto one and decided to take it on a walk with us. He was riding his new training wheel bicycle (it has a handle for parents to "help") and refused to let go of his "wormy." He has figured out how to pedal his "motorcycle" (which is what he calls it), but he tends to only steer it when he is reminded to or when we almost go into the ditch. He had his "wormy" cupped ever so gingerly in his palm while he rode. He kept transferring it from one hand to he other until it finally stopped squirming and lay in his palm in a limp wormy pile. Then Son said, "Wormy taking a nap!" I didn't have the heart to inform him that no matter how gentle he tried to be with his "wormy," he had fondled it to its death. He held that worm for the entire mile long walk and then insisted he had to bring it inside with us. I managed to convince him that Wormy would be happiest if he could continue his "nap" outside.
A couple days later we had a tree frog on the brick ledge next to the front door. The kids both enjoyed looking at it, and then Dear Son started pleading to "Touch it! Touch it froggy!" The next morning there was the same type of frog on the ledge outside Dear Daughter's bedroom window and Dear Son kept insisting, "Froggy touch it!" He was not at all happy that I couldn't oblige him through the window screen. He and Daddy later went out to the pond in search of frogs for Son to touch.
So far neither frogs nor worms have made it into his pockets, but I'm waiting for it. I just hope I find them before they go through the washer and dryer!