Naptime. Everyone is laying down. Grace, who is four, keeps getting up and messing with something in her pocket.
Me: Grace, why do you keep getting up, what are you doing?
Grace: When I lay down, they keep coming out.
Me: What keeps coming out?
Grace: The roly-polys. Maybe I should take them outside.
She had eight live potato bugs in her pocket. Plus various other bits and pieces of ones that didn't fare so well.
Charles sits up. Lets me know that he smashed all his, so he "wouldn't have to carry them anymore".
Ahhhh. And I thought they were playing some kind of money game with bits of gravel. Now we use bugs for currency.