We Are Surrounded

They're back. And this time, the children are on their side. It's my fault, really. I have been fostering bug love. We've been digging up worms, examining roly polies, and keeping snails in a jar. I've been admonishing Jake that all life is created by God and is therefore precious. While we were stepping around beetles and ushering moths outside, the ants were watching.

Last night, they mounted a massive assault. I was upstairs when arhythmic stomping and slapping sounds drifted up from the kitchen. I tried to ignore the ruckus. It went on for five minutes, then eight. I reluctantly plodded downstairs and poked my head around the corner. Nick was muttering under his breath as he furiously stomped on the tile. He was beating the broom under the cabinets' overhang, then sweeping something toward his pounding feet. When he felt my eyes, he turned and said, with no small amount of drama, "They're back. The little $%&#ers. I thought I had them beaten. I put out traps. What do they do? They walk around the traps. They're smart. Too smart." Then he turned back to his stomping. I put the kettle on and ran to hide."

By the time the kettle whistled, Nick had squashed all of the advance force. He was tracing the route with a flashlight, waiting for unsuspecting ants to show him the way. He moved from the kitchen to the play room where he found an abandoned granola bar. A few moments later, he found Jacob's lunch bag behind the toy box. "They're in cahoots! Cahoots!!!" he yelled.

Whether or not the children were planning to aid and abet the ants, it's clear that the ants move quickly. The invasion happened in less than four hours. I'm considering a new strategy, but I'm a little concerned about pesticide content.