Thanks to your suggestions, posse, our home is now finely coated in baby powder, corn starch, tea tree oil, bay leaves, boric acid and vinegar. The ant traffic, while not stopped, has slowed. I'm not sure if it's the ant repellents that are working or the fact I've started piling ant corpses in front of all ant entry points.
Do you think the ants feel fear when they realize they're entering a house of ant death? If so, I have a healthy respect for those who press on in their search for Goldfish cracker crumbs.
I was a chaperone for Lucien's field trip to the zoo last week. Each chaperone was responsible for four kids. I had to lead my group of four around the zoo, consolidate all their needs and wants into a one-hour visit before meeting up again with the rest of the class for lunch. It was tricky business because as soon as I asked, "OK, guys, what do you want to see first?" I heard, "TIGER ELEPHANT I WANT A SNACK I HAVE TO PEE."
I realized I'd made a grave error in giving the children any say whatsoever in their zoo experience. To see anything at all, I was going to have to be a zoo dictator. I promptly marched them to the flamingos. The kids were bored but I laughed myself silly because man, what ridiculous looking animals.
I then took them to see the amorous lizards because I'm a very good chaperone.
I was very protective of "my four." They were superior to the other groups of four because they were mine. They won me over with their big eyes and their need to hold hands all the time and their calling me "Hey, Lucien's mommy."
my four, truly flawless Kindergarten specimens
Because I've recently seen The Hunger Games, and because I often confuse movies with reality, I was sure all groups of four were going to be forced into combat at some point. So while other groups took frivolous spins on the carousel, we trained. You should have seen little Katie with those nunchucks, she was really something. Eli excelled at psychological mind games and torture. Lucien's primary weapon, of course, was his scream, which paralyzed anything within earshot.
There was no battle. Very disappointing. Instead, all groups came together in peace to pet this pathetically sad and lifeless goat named Lester --
My favorite part of the field trip was riding the yellow school bus. It's been a long time since I've been on a school bus. They still sound, smell, and look exactly the same, right down to the "bodily fluid clean-up kit" hanging over the driver's head. Didn't you just pity, yet at the same time absolutely despise, any kid unfortunate enough to throw up on your bus when you were little? Horrifying stuff.
I took Lucien to a birthday party for one of his classmates. It was there I discovered Lucien has taught his class the French preschooler's favorite taboo phrase -- "caca boudin." His entire class now regularly breaks out in unison in a caca boudin chant -- caca boudin! caca boudin! caca boudin! It made me smile, but only after looking frantically around the room for Lucien's Parisian teachers. Had they been there, they most certainly would have been giving me the stinkeye.
The father sitting next to me noticed my cringe and asked if caca boudin was a bad thing to say? I assured him no, it was a fine thing to say, especially if he was a fan of poop sausage.
It's Spring Break right now so I have both kids with me all the time. I survived the first day so am feeling invincible. The feeling probably won't last.
Caca boudin never surrenders, never dies,