My house has been invaded by ants. They're everywhere. Even places where there is no food. Like the computer desk. Well, okay I have been known to eat while blogging, but the bathroom, I definitely don't eat in the bathroom. And Ben, a recent unfortunate experience with an anthill still fresh in his mind, is terrified of the little guys. And so ten times a day I hear:
"Ants, mommy, Ants! Get the spway, get the spway!"
So I go and spray them while he crouches down and watches their demise with disturbing fascination and glee.
"Dey are wurggle-ing mom, Dey are doing the wurrgel-ing dance. Oh dey are dead now. One's getting away, can we spway it again?" He's jumping up and down now, so excited is he at the prospect of killing the last surviving ant.
And I, who should probably not be encouraging this toddler version of "Die, suckers Die!" obligingly spray them again. And watch them wurgle and do their dance of death. Because lets face it, the sadistic apple doesn't fall far from the tree on this one.
I am not a fan of sharing my home with anything that has more than four legs. Especially when they bite me while blogging. The nerve.