"Mama," my eight-year-old son said this morning. "There's a frozen Junebug on our porch."
"Hmmm," I said. "That's nice. What's he doing there?"
"Well, he was crawling around inside, and I didn't want to share my food with him. So I put him outside."
"I see. You do realize it is 23 degrees outside?"
Bubba nodded. "Yep."
"Bugs can't live outside when it's that cold. You killed him."
"Yeah, Mama. I know. When I put him outside, he took a few steps and turned around. He took a few more steps and then he froze."
Poor bug. He probably just wanted to get back into the nice warm house. Next time my boy should share his food!