"First instar." Pronounces The Old Man loftily... and returns to his newspaper, whilst I do crawl around sayin' "Here baby baby... come to Mama..." Can you imagine that? Me... as a great big Mama grasshopper? Oh but my jaws would be head-crunchers.
I think "real mama" must have hopped in and laid eggs under the skirting or something last autumn... and now tis spring... and the babies be hatching.
How big are they really? Well imagine chasing jumping caraway seeds and you get the idea.