I was awakened one morning last week with three little hands thrust into my face, each with a large white caterpillar on it. Good thing I'm a biologist and not fazed by such things.
I had gone down to San Diego to babysit our three granddaughters while Vic stayed home to teach his classes.
I arrived in the evening after the girls had gone to bed. I was to take care of them all the next day while their parents were at work. As soon as the girls awakened in the morning, they retrieved their pet silkworms from the shoebox where they had been happily munching on mulberry leaves. With a silkworm apiece, they dashed to where I was still sleeping.
"Wook, Nana Woo," the three exclaimed in unison. "We have silkwohms!"
Fortunately, our daughter-in-law, Nicole, had warned me about the silkworms. Five-year-old twins Allison and Lauren had been given four silkworms by their preschool teacher. Along with the caterpillars came a bag of mulberry leaves, which are the only things that silkworms eat. The girls were to feed mulberry leaves to the silkworms until they began to spin their cocoons. Then the girls will have to wait three weeks until the silkmoths hatch from the cocoons. After that, the girls will get to watch the silkmoths mate and lay eggs.