I am horrified by the combination of ants and babies. I should never have read "100 Years of Solitude;" the baby gets eaten by a huge swarm of ants. There is a human-eating ant swarm in "The Poisonwood Bible" too. I think maybe I should watch more tv. But anyway this explains my nausea and revulsion at the following incident of this morning:
Milo and I were playing outside on the swingset (generously donated by the Zoffs. Thanks again btw!) and Milo started shouting into this little tube that goes across the top. I think the point of it is to talk to someone else on the other end but I'm not sure. Anyway, I went to the other end to talk back and shouted, "Hello Milo! Can you hear me?" and Milo started coughing and spitting and I look over to see clumps of something falling out of the tube. CLUMPS OF ANTS!!! There were ants on his face and down his shirt and being blown away by the wind. I grabbed Milo and started brushing ants off of him as fast as I could while trying not to freak him out by freaking out. I got them off eventually (Milo kept drooling out dead ones) but my skin kept crawling for the next few minutes between when I made sure Milo and myself were ant-free, rushed him inside and stripped off his clothes (one in the diaper! Eckkkkk), gave him a toy, and then took four showers.
Millo having fun in the tire swing pre-ant disaster.
2 comments:
ahhhhh! I'm so sorry Emily. How freaky! I can hardly imagine...
EEEEEEWWWWWWWW! I would be freaked out with you on that one. Poor Sawyer stuck his hand in some yellow jacket territory when he was about 18 months. There were 8 or so hanging off his little hand and dozens more flying around. I would like to say the protective mother instinct made me rush in there without another thought but it was more like "Oh no! Oh crap! And then forcing myself to run over and try frantically to knock them all off."
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