One time I went on a short hike in the Wisconsin woods with my beautiful and sexy wife and our kiddos. We were mobbed by mosquitos–-more than I have ever seen at once in my entire life, and I spent a chunk of my childhood in Alaska, where the mosquito is the state bird. We showered ourselves in industrial-strength, hazardous-chemical, deep-woods mosquito repellant until our skin was on fire, but it did nothing. My exasperated five-year old son finall asked in anguish why Jesus made mosquitos, to which my wife replied “I don’t know, why don’t you pray and ask him.”
A moment of silent hiking later, my son pipes up, “Mommy, Jesus says he didn’t do it.”
Sailing to Byzantium 
funny.
By all that’s holy! the boy has finally put the rest one of the most important questions of christian cosmology and has upturned centuries of orthodox belief.
It’s not the first time.