free the ants

Spring is here! We know this because a colony of ants has made its way into the kitchen. I grab the little broom and dust pan and the Good Man unlocks the sliding doors. We know the drill.

"Nooooo! Don't kill the ants. Don't take them outside. You'll scare them," insists Little Dude. I whisk all but one of the ants onto the dust pan. Distracted by the lone ant, I'm able to hand the dust pan to the Good Man who dumps its contents (gently) on the patio, without further protests from our ant advocate.

Little Dude is on his knees with his nose to the floor examining the ant. The ant begins to move. As most toddlers his age do, he gets over-excited and begins to do a happy dance. You've seen it before. Arms flap. Feet stomp. Head bobs from side to side.

"Uh, oh. Where'd it go?" Little Dude loses sight of the ant. He gets back on his knees to look for it.

I hesitate but tell him, "It's on your sock, sweetie."

"Oh, no. I killed the ant. I broked it," he cries mournfully as he looks at the black speck on the bottom of his sock.

I begin searching my sleep-deprived brain for comforting words to say and clench my jaws tight to hold back the laughter that's about to escape. Multi-tasking isn't always easy for me.

I see eyes brighten suddenly and he says, "We better go buy a new one!"

The Good Man and I giggle with relief. Little Dude and Littler Dude laugh along with us. Whew ... another disaster averted.