The girls squealed and hid themselves under the blankets.

I sighed and waited patiently for them to come back out of hiding, the book resting in my lap. A few moments later Clara’s dark curls peaked back out from under the pink comforter.

“Is he gone?” she asked.

“No.”

She ducked her head back under the waves.

“Guys, he’s not going to do anything to you.”

“It’s a HUGE mosquito!” they screamed, muffled by the covers.

“I told you. It’s not a mosquito.”

Clara appeared again. “It looks like a mosquito, and it’s going to eat us.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not going to eat you, because it’s not a mosquito. Actually it’s pretty much the opposite of a mosquito. It’s called a “Mosquito Eater”. You should want him to stay in your bedroom because he will scare away any real mosquitoes.”

Clara rolled her eyes back at me. “Dad,” she said plainly. “That is NOT the opposite of a mosquito. If it eats mosquitoes, and you are what you eat, then it really IS a HUGE mosquito.”

I blinked at her flawless logic. “Okay, you win -I’ll kill it.”

“No!” the girls screamed in unison and dove back under the covers.