My grandmother used to say that bad things come in threes. (She also used to say that deaths came in threes, which was really irritating, because there's nothing like getting all sniffly that Uncle Wladislaw died, only to be told by a dire old lady in a black cardigan that two more people were on their way soon.) Last night, as we got ready to pack for a week at the beach, a certain child of mine (cough, Elvis, cough) left the hatch of the car open after he brought stuff in from the back. Even though his mother said, "Did you close up the car?" It wasn't until after the downpour when I went to put stuff in the car that I noticed it had rained in the hatchback for close to two hours.
We woke up to more rain this morning -- sheets of rain.
When I went to put stuff in the other car a little while ago, I could not help but notice that it had a flat tire.
I consider us highly fortunate to have gotten all three bad things out of the way before we hit the road.
And if we'd gotten out the door as planned, perhaps I would never have gotten to see this little guy:
I have no doubt that some entomologist-knitter out there will be able to identify this critter. But, um, if it's a termite in waiting, then please wait until after the beach to tell me, because I don't want to start the cycle of three all over again...