Have you ever tried eating crickets? I first tried crickets on a summer day at a Mexican restaurant in Los Angeles. My parents told me, “Guess what? We’re having crickets.” I gasped. My heart was bouncing like a bouncy ball. I said, “I think I’ll pass.” 


My dad said, “I don’t think so. We ordered a family size.” My heart bounced even harder. My sister was lucky, she didn’t have to try it. A big plate with crickets landed on the table. When I saw them, I backed up. I was not too excited. My parents pushed it towards me. It smelled okay. I had goosebumps all over my body. My parents forced me to do it. I grabbed one and it felt like a squishy teeny-tiny little insect. It looked like they mixed red and brown paint and put it on the cricket. Finally, I had no choice but to try it. I wasn’t ready for it. I counted 1 . . . 2 . . . 3. I took a bite. Suddenly, I tasted something that was so good. It was like heaven in my mouth. “So good,” I said. I learned a lesson: don’t judge a book by its cover!