"I WOVE ANTS! I WANT TO PWAY WIFF HIM"

"I wreally wove ants."

"I wove ants, ants, ants."

Chuckle, that's what she said.  My little granddaughter, she's only 3, stands about this tall, barely able to reach a door handle.  She saw a carpenter ant scurrying around on our picnic table, first thing she did was let out a squeal.

"I want to pway wiff him!"

'Cause she's so short, she has to stand on the picnic table's bench, and lee-ee-ean over the edge of the table to try to catch this little black bug.

I'd put a small dish of jelly on the table to attract Baltimore Orioles.  It was a suggestion I'd heard earlier in the week and was willing to try it.  Of course, it attracted the wildlife!

Ants!  

Ne'er was there a bird in sight.  Just ... ants!

Lil' Alayna's hand reached out to catch a running ant.  He'd run anywhere and everywhere but never to her, right?

So, I picked up an itty bitty twig and said, "Here, Alayna, block him with this."

Poor sad child, she didn't know how to block.  She poked instead.  And he ran!  For his dear life.

 

"I want another ant.  Him is gone."

Using a piece of paper I'd folded into a box we were able to scoop one into it.

"I twapped 'im," she said.  "I caught you, ant, so you don't fall."

Just as fast as ants are, this one scurried between the folds of the box and disappeared.   

And aren't the young so truthful?  Cause she admitted to me,

"Now I am sad, saddy, sad, sad," she said.  And I chuckled at her choice of words.

"I want another ant."

"Him is gone.  I find 'im."  She looks all over, under the whirlygigs from the maple tree, and along my ink pen resting there.

"There you are.  Come on ant," she held out one hand and blocked with the other.

She turned her face up to me, and said,  "I want him on my hand."

I gathered one up.  I shook it into her hand.  She shivered, but kept him cupped.

"That tickles.  Him tickle me."  Her giggles are so sweet.

"Look at me I am balancing the ant," and she lets the ant trickle from her left hand into her right.

I didn't make that up, she did use the word balancing.

That black ant scrambled to safety.  HE DROPPED to the table.   

Lil' Alayna looked at the dish where ants were coming back to take a taste, "Is that ant foo ood?"  Food is two syllables, right?

"Yes, Alayna, here...."  I said and I held out my hand for her to return it, "Give me a second, I'll crease these corners a little tighter on this box, that way the next ant can't escape."

She studied the palm size box, "GrammyPam can you make a woof!"  I laughed, cause at first I thought she was talking about the neighbor's dogs barking.

I said, "Oh, Alayna, I'm not very good at making woof sounds."  And then, slow me, "Ding!"  I got it.  "Oh, you mean a roof!  A roof for this little box." (Gotta compensate for that language barrier, LOL)

On the table was a dime sized little puddle leftover from this mornings rain.  She pointed to it.

"This is a swimming pool," she said.  I looked to see what she was talking about.

So, I had to ask her, "A swimming pool for what, Alayna?" 

"For the ant!  The swimming pool is him home."

All on her own, she finished this little circus act.  I knew she'd had enough, 'cause this little drama queen granddaughter of mine said,

"GrammyPam.  I'm thirsty.  So.  So.  So thirr-sty."

She jumped off that picnic table like a black ant on a mission.

Then she half turned, gave one last look, "I can't find an ant!"  

She stomped her foot and said, "Ah - GAIN!"