Little Ladybug

Just an example of the sweet, gentle and kind nature of my Matthew... we were outside playing yesterday and he called me over. I went over to where he was and he pointed out a ladybug. I picked it up, gently, but it wasn't moving. Matt asked me, "Why isn't he moving Mumma?"

I said, "Well, look how teeny he is... To his little eyes, we must look like giants."

Matt thought about that for a moment, then put his arm around me and said oh so softly to the ladybug, "It's okay little ladybug! Don't be scared! I'm Matthew, and this is my mumma!"

He played with that little ladybug (whom he named "Firefly") for about a half an hour... gently letting it crawl up and down his arms. He's so sweet, isn't he?

And now for the philosophical question of the day... why do we always tend to call ladybugs "he" when it's a ladybug?