Zombie Repellant

We've arrived at letter "Z" for the A-Z challenge!  Congratulations to everyone who made it!

Before I begin my story, I want to once again invite you to check out my article on why children's books are important.  You can find it here.  If you like it, please share with your social networks.  I'm trying to win a contest to get a free animated version of my book, That Mama is a Grouch.  EPublishing Experts will do this for the author with the most shares.  This is the last day.  Thanks to all who have already visited, shared, and commented.  I really appreciate it!

Now for the story.

I live in zombie country.  I do.  Really.  I live in Georgia, where the television series, Walking Dead is filmed.  (In fact, my daughter was thinking about auditioning as an extra for the production.)  Because we live in zombie land, we have to be ever-vigilant about these creatures.

Last weekend, my family and I drove out to Vidalia, Georgia, for the onion festival (that's a story unto itself).  The land looked exactly like the terrain in Walking Dead.  And we saw a few suspects who looked an awful lot like zombies.

"Mama," my son said.  "I know what to do if we see a zombie."

I turned around and looked at the kid.  "Really, Bubba?  What do we do?  Throw onions at them?"

"No, Mama.  We eat pie!"

I raised my eyebrows.  "Eat pie?"

He nodded, then he started singing his pie song that he had composed a couple of years ago:

Eat pie, eat pie.
Everybody eat pie.
You will die,
unless you eat pie.

Eat pie when you're sitting on the bucket.
Or zombies will invade you!

Eat pie, eat pie.
Everybody eat pie.
You will die,
unless you eat pie.

All right then.  So we got ourselves a fine Georgia peach pie and kept it with us at all times.  I suggest you do the same!


  

You Tube Stupidity

My kids find all kinds of strange and bizarre things on YouTube. Here are some of the highlights I've seen over the past few years:

The Cinnamon Challenge:

  Brought to you by none other than GloZell, the cinnamon challenge prompted my kids to attempt it themselves.  I quickly put a stop to it, before someone ended up vomiting all over my nice kitchen floor!

The Chubby Bunny Challenge:

Yep.  Brought to you once again, by GloZell.  (What's up with this woman?) My kids didn't even get started on this one.  Those chubby bunnies looked dangerous!  Which brings me to my next video:

Dumb Ways to Die:

I think they missed one on this.  They need to add, "doing the chubby bunny challenge," because shoving too many chubby bunnies in your mouth is definitely a dumb way to die!

X-ray Vision

"Mama," my nine-year-old son said.  "What do I have behind my back?"

I scoured the table, trying to figure out what was on it that was no longer there.  "A quarter," I said.

He looked surprised.  "Yes.  Now guess which hand it's in."

"Right."

He wrinkled his eyebrows, looking very puzzled.  "That's pretty good, Mama!"  Then he did a little shuffle.  "Now guess which hand it's in."

"Right," I guessed.

"Yep!"  He did it again.  "Which one, now?"

"Left."

"Mama, you're good at this."  He shuffled things around one more time and put his hands behind his back. "Guess again.  You'll never get it!"

I looked at that kid and smiled.  "Neither."

Of course I was right.  I figured he had put it in his back pocket.

He stared at me with his mouth open.  "How did you know?"

"Bubba, Mamas have x-ray vision.  You can't hide anything from the Mama!"

 

Wet Kids

Last night, after I had finished teaching violin lessons, I heard a lot of screaming.  It was coming from my backyard.  Curious, I went to investigate.  All the sprinklers were turned on in the backyard, and eight kids were standing in the middle of them, getting soaking wet.

I didn't even recognized half of those kids.  What the heck is going on here? I thought.  I walked out to see.

My husband was standing at the edge of the yard next to be big hole.  He had a shovel in his hands.  "I fixed the sprinklers!" he said, all proud of himself.

"I see that," I said.  "What's with the kids?" I said.  "I don't think their parents will be too thrilled when they come home soaking wet!"

"They just showed up," he said.

I looked at all of them having a good time.

Then our hundred pound German Shepherd barked from inside the house.  What did my husband do?  He let him out.  So then there were eight wet kids and one wet German Shepherd all barking, screaming, and running around my backyard.

Oy!

   

Violin Thief

Before I begin my story, I want to let you know about the release of a new book by a very talented writer and blog friend, Medeia Sharif.  You can find it here on Amazon. 




SNIP, SNIP REVENGE by Medeia Sharif

YA Contemporary, Evernight Teen

Release Date April 25, 2014

Beautiful, confident Tabby Karim has plans for the winter: nab a role in her school’s dramatic production, make the new boy Michael hers, and keep bigoted Heather—with her relentless Ay-rab comments—at bay. When a teacher’s lie and her father’s hastiness rob her of her beautiful hair, her dreams are dashed. The fastest barber in Miami Beach has made her look practically bald.

With all her pretty hair gone, Tabby doesn’t believe she fits the feminine role she’s auditioning for. Michael is still interested in her, but he’s playing it cool. Heather has taken to bullying her online, which is easier to do with Tabby’s ugly haircut. Tabby spearheads Operation Revenge, which proves satisfying until all of her problems deepen. 
After messing up, she sets to make things right.

Author Bio

I’m a Kurdish-American author who was born in New York City, and I presently call Miami my home. I received my master’s degree in psychology from Florida Atlantic University. After becoming a voracious reader in high school and a relentless writer dabbling in many genres in college, I found my niche writing for young people. Today I'm a MG and YA writer published through various presses. In addition to being a writer, I'm a middle school English teacher. My memberships include Mensa, ALAN, and SCBWI.

Find Medeia

Blog   |   Twitter   |   Goodreads   |   Instagram   |   Amazon


Now for the story:

When our German Shepherd, Schultz, was a puppy, he got into a lot of trouble!  He destroyed the ignition switch on our grill, not once, not twice, but three times!  (Don't ask me how.)  He chewed through the screen on our back sliding door twice.  He destroyed two garden hoses, chewed up the legs of four kitchen chairs, and decimated my rose garden. He was a naughty puppy!

One day, about three years ago, I was in the kitchen, when I heard a strange sound.  It was coming from the living room.  I went to investigate.  I couldn't believe what I saw!  That gosh-darn German Shepherd had the shoulder strap of my violin case in his mouth, and was dragging the case across the floor.  My violin, of course, was inside!

"Schultz!" I bellowed.  "Drop it!"

He didn't want to drop it.

I growled at him.  "Drop it!!!!!"

He knew the Mama was mad!  He dropped it, stuck his tail between his legs, and got out of there.

"Crate!" I ordered.

I locked him in there, where he stayed for several hours.  That was the last time he ever messed with any of my instruments, because he knows that if he even so much thinks about eating my violin for lunch, this Mama will turn into an angry lion!

Underwear Overhead

When my daughter (who is now a teenager) was about four years old, she liked helping me with the laundry. I'd bring up a basket of clean clothes, and she'd sit next to me while I folded. She'd watch intently and then grab some clothes in an attempt to imitate what I was doing.  More often than not, she'd grab clothes that were already folded, and refold them her own way.

On one such day, she found a pair of her daddy's underwear.  Folding underwear can be tricky - especially for a four-year-old.  After several attempts, she gave up. But did she put down the pair of underwear?  No.  She put it on her head and wore it like a hat!  I looked at her and laughed. So she grabbed another pair of daddy's underwear and put that on her head.

I thought that was a fabulous fashion statement, so I grabbed a pair of daddy's underwear and put it on my head.  My daughter giggled and thought it was the best thing ever. From that day on, for the next year or so, every time we'd do laundry, we'd wear underwear hats.  It was completely silly, but it certainly made doing the laundry a lot more fun!  

Thinking Cap

A couple of weeks ago, my son was sitting in his room, at his desk, with a box over his head.  It appeared he was trying to do his homework, but with the box on his head, I couldn't quite be sure.

"Bubba, what are you doing, and why is there a box on your head?" I asked.

"I'm doing my homework, Mama," he answered.  "Hold on while I figure out the answer."

I looked over his shoulder and saw that he was doing some math problems. I also saw that the box was cut out in such a way that there was an opening for his face, and spaces cut out so it could sit comfortably on his shoulders.   It was an elaborate concoction.

After a few seconds of staring at the math problem, Bubba took a pencil and started scribbling on the inside of his box.  I watched quietly, trying to figure out what the kid was doing.  When he was done, he wrote the answer to the problem on his paper.

"Okay, Bubba.  What was that all about?"

He grinned.  "This is my thinking cap.  It's helping me do my homework!"

Soap Scum Messages

The other day, I was cleaning the shower door in the bathroom.  It was covered with soap scum, as is usually the case at the end of every week.  As I wiped it down, I noticed what looked like the letter, "L."

Hmmm, I thought.  What's this?

Upon careful inspection, I noticed the letters, "o," "v," and "e."  "Love."  There was a message written in that soap scum:  I Love You.

Awww, how sweet! I thought.  Who did this?

I asked my husband.  It wasn't him.

I asked my daughter.  It wasn't her.

That meant it was either the dog or my son.  And since the quadruped doesn't have handy-dandy fingers to write such messages, it had to be only one person:  Bubba!

"Bubba," I asked.  "Did you write a soap message on the shower door?"

He grinned and nodded.

So I gave him a big hug.  "I love you, too!"
    

Rowdy Raccoons

Raccoons were a big problem where I used to live in Cincinnati, Ohio.  They were fearless creatures, coming up to the front door, staring in the windows, and going through our garbage.  Our outdoor cat got into quite a few tousles with them.

One night, about two years ago, our giant German Shepherd, Schultz decided to deal with the ruffians.  It was midnight, and my husband had let Schultz out for his last potty break.  The coons were at the bird feeder, stealing seeds. Schultz spotted them right away and charged.  You should've heard the commotion!  There were four coons hissing, and one very irritated German Shepherd growling and barking.  The scuffle lasted a few minutes, then all four coons climbed over the fence and retreated.  Apparently they didn't like a very scary-looking dog with large teeth charging at them.

Schultz stood at the fence with his hair standing straight up on his back, making sure the coons were gone for good.  When he was satisfied that they were, he gave another bark and trotted into the house.

He wagged his tail, and looked quite pleased with himself.  "Good boy, Schultz," my husband said, giving him a treat.

(Schultz must've made quite an impression that night, because we never saw the coons in our back yard after that!)

Quiet

Life with kids is not quiet!  There's constant chatter.  Noisy toys.  And lots of commotion.  I like quiet.  It's the only way I can hear the voices in my head to write my stories!  So I can never understand why my kids insist on having music playing, or the TV on when they're doing their homework.

"No TV!"  I always say, and turn it off whenever I find it on.

Well, last week, my son and I went to visit the psychologist.  We suspected he might have ADD.  One of the questions was, "Does you son like to have music or noise when he's doing his homework?"

"Why, yes," I said.  "And it's driving me crazy!"

The psychologist laughed.  Then he went to his computer and pulled up some brain pictures.  "This is a normal brain," he said, pointing and some MRI images.  "You can see normal activity in the frontal lobe."

I looked at the picture and nodded my head.

He continued.  "Here's a brain of a person who has ADD."  he pointed at the frontal lobe, where there were obviously black "holes" in it.  "There's not enough activity here to be picked up by the MRI," he explained.

He pulled up another picture.  The brain had even more "holes."  "This is what happens when you 'force' an ADD person to focus.  They shut down even more."

"Okay," I said.  "But what does noise have to do with it?"

The psychologist grinned.  "Noise stimulates the frontal lobe and helps the ADD person focus.  The 'holes' shrink."

Bubba thought that was great news.  "See, Mama!  I told you I needed music and TV to help me do my homework!"

So  much for quiet!


 

Perfect Sandwich

"Mama," my nine-year-old son said.  "I'm going to make a perfect sandwich."

Good, I thought, Because now I'll have something to write about for the letter "p" in the A-Z challenge!  "Okay, Bubba.  Go for it."

He got out the bread.  And the lunch meat.  And the mayonnaise.  And the onions.  About ten minutes later, he had the perfect sandwich.

"Look, Mama," he said, bringing the sandwich into the room where I was working. "Do you like it?"  No sooner had he said that, then the plate slipped out of his hands.  His perfect sandwich lay strewn about on the floor.

He didn't have much time to worry about it though, because a second later, our 100 pound German Shepherd, Schultz, came over and ate the perfect sandwich.  (He obviously doesn't care about the five-second rule!)

Bubba looked at me with his mouth open.

"Well, Bubba," I said, "The good news is, your sandwich was indeed perfect, because Schultz gobbled it all up and didn't leave a single crumb!"    

Odoriferous Odors

Kids stink.  Literally.  When they're babies, it's spit up and poopy diapers.  As they get older, it becomes grime and dirty socks.  Not to mention teenage body odor.  I cringe just thinking about what I'm going to smell in the next few years!

Two years ago, I noticed a particularly foul odor. It was coming from the laundry room.  I searched in the washing machine.  I searched in the dryer.  I searched in the cracks and crevices behind the washer and dryer.  But I couldn't find the culprit.  Finally, I spotted my son's backpack.  As soon as I unzipped it, I knew this was the source of the problem.  I couldn't imagine what could possibly be causing it.

Of course, the backpack was completely stuffed with papers, books, and objects having little or nothing to do with school.  It took a while to get to the bottom.  But when I got there, I found a rotting peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  It had to be at least two weeks old.

"Bubba," I called.  "Why didn't you eat your lunch?"

I don't remember his excuse.  But what I do remember, is that his retort was, "Mama, you should've cleaned my backpack.  Then it wouldn't have had this putrid odor!"

Of course.  It's always the Mama's fault!    

Neck Cramp

My son came home from school yesterday all proud of himself.  "I was good today, Mama.  Look!  I even got a roach!"  He held up a plastic orange and yellow beetle.

"Great, Bubba!  What did you do that was so good?"

"I paid real close attention to my teacher."

I nodded.  "You should do that every day."

He shook his head.  "I don't think I can, Mama.  I had to move my head everywhere she went to keep an eye on her.  And now I have a neck cramp!"

Mascara Mustache

The other day, my daughter had a sleepover with one of her friends.  And as is usually the case, the girls got a little crazy.  When my daughter came out of her room to ask me something, I hardly recognized her.  Bright red lipstick, sloppily applied, covered her lips, making her look like a clown.  She also wore heavy glitter eye shadow along with some odd, black markings scribbled on her face.

"What the heck did you do to your face?" I asked, hardly able to believe that the creature standing in front of me was my offspring.

"I made it look like a combination of Kei$ha and Taylor Swift.  Don't I look like them?"  (For those of you who are unfamiliar with these characters, they are pop music stars.  Taylor likes to wear bright red lipstick, and Kei$ha - well, she's just about as odd as her name.)

"You bear a striking resemblance," I said. "But what's with the black mustache? Did you use a Sharpie marker on your face?"

She looked at me like I was crazy.  "Mom, why would I use a Sharpie marker on my face?  Everybody knows you use mascara to draw on your face!"

Right.  Silly me.  A mascara mustache!        

Lemonade Stand

Lemonade stands seem to be a part of just about every kid's childhood.  It was no exception for my kids.  When my daughter was five, she had her first one.  We used a large cooler for the table, covered it with a tablecloth, and set up shop.  Traffic was good on our street.  Every time a car passed, my daughter would shout at the top of her little five-year-old voice, "Lemonade, lemonade!  Come and get your ice-cold lemonade!"

And since people happened to be very nice in that neighborhood, they all stopped.   Even the mailman, who was on a walking route, stopped.  (We gave him a free one.)  After an hour of being out in the hot summer sun, we poured the last cup and closed shop.

"How much money did we make, Mom?" my daughter asked when we came back in the house.

I counted the coins. "Twenty-one dollars and twenty-five cents!"

At twenty-five cents a cup, I'd say that was the best we ever did, and it was an experience neither of us will ever forget!

(Now my son sets up lemonade stands.  The sales aren't as good as they were for my daughter almost ten years ago.  He has to get resourceful by going around to the neighbor's houses and ringing their doorbells.  I guess times have changed!)  

Kitchen Music

The other day, my daughter and I were making cookies.  My daughter was in charge of operating the mixer.  She began at a low speed and then moved up to a higher speed.  In the process, she started a little rhythm.  She played around with it and started bobbing her head.

Hmm. I thought. This could get interesting. I grabbed a wooden spoon and started my own rhythm on the mixing bowl.  We had a real groove going.

Then my son came in.  Of course he wanted to get in on the action, so he grabbed a couple of stainless steel spoons and started clanging them together.  It was complete cacophony.

"Bubba, what are you doing?" my daughter asked.

"Same thing you are," he said.  "Making noise!"

Jokers

In case you haven't figured it out, there's a lot of silliness that goes on at my place.  My kids (and husband) are a bunch of jokers.  Here's a story from about three years ago that happened on April Fools Day.

My kids had the brilliant idea to pull a prank on our neighbors.  "Do you have empty boxes and packaging tape?" my son asked.

"Why?" I asked, growing suspicious.

"You'll see."

My son and daughter wrapped four empty boxes with packaging tape and affixed a label with my neighbor's address on it. Then they marched over to my neighbor's house, dropped the "packages" in front of her door, rang the doorbell and took off.

I just shook my head.  I would've liked to have seen my neighbor's face after opening up that special delivery!

I Spy

One of my kids' favorite games to play when we're trying to pass time, is "I Spy."  For those not familiar with it, what happens, is one person says, "I spy something yellow."  (Or blue, or round, or soft, etc.)  And the other person has to look around and figure out what it is.

Yesterday, my son and I were at the doctor's office.  And as usually is the case, the doctor was running late.  So we began a game of "I Spy."

We did a few rounds.  Then it was my son's turn, again.  "I spy something orange."

I looked around.  The only orange things I saw were the orange dots on the carpet.  "The orange spots on the carpet," I said.

"Which one?" he asked.

"What do you mean, which one?  There are thousands here!"

"Guess which one!"

I pointed to several on the floor around us. None of them were it.  Finally I gave up.  "Which one is it?" I asked.

"The one under your shoe!"

I lifted my foot.

"That one," he said, pointing to an orange dot that had been under my foot the entire time.

"Wait a minute," I said.  "You could not have possibly spied that particular spot, because it wasn't in your field of vision!"

"But Mama, I have X-ray vision.  I can see everything - even if it's under your foot!"  

Humpty Dumpty

This story goes back to when my daughter was about three years old - more than ten years ago.  Ancient history.  I used to read my kids nursery rhymes when they were that age, so of course they knew all about Little Miss Muffet, Little Boy Blue, and Humpty Dumpty.

My daughter had a particular affinity to Humpty Dumpty. Perhaps it was because of her stuffed Humpty Dumpty which she slept with every night.  Anyway, she was not very happy when she learned that Humpty fell off a wall and could not be repaired.

One day, as she was driving with her grandparents and discussing the plight of Humpty, she burst into tears.

"What's wrong?" Grandpa asked. "Humpty isn't real.  It's just a story."

"But Grandpa, he is real. And nobody ever called 911.  They just left him there to die."

Poor Humpty!

Grass Fire

A few days ago, I smelled smoke.  My kids did, too.  "Mama, what's that smell?"

I didn't see anything in the house, so I went outside.  The entire neighborhood was enveloped in a shroud of smoke.  And it smelled awful.  It seemed my neighbor's house was the culprit.  Smoke billowed out from their backyard.

"Mom, their house is on fire!" my son yelled.

I wasn't sure if their house was on fire, or if there was something completely out of control going on back there.  But I did what most sane people would do.  I called 911.

The firetrucks arrived, along with a squadron of police cars and an ambulance.  Apparently a few other neighbors were concerned, and did the same thing as me.

The firefighters went behind the neighbor's house to investigate.  About ten minutes later, they came back and hooked up their hoses to the fire hydrant.  Then they marched back to soak down whatever was causing the smoke.

When they were finished, my husband went out to ask the firemen what had happened.

"They were burning grass," one of the firemen said. "It just produced a ridiculous amount of smoke."

Now here's the weird part of the story.  Apparently, grass burning is quite common here in Georgia.  I'm not talking a pile of grass clippings.  I'm talking an entire yard of planted Bermuda grass.    As you walk around the neighborhoods here, you will see blackened yards.  I thought at first it was dirt or some kind of odd fertilizer that people were putting down. But no.  They literally set their yards on fire to make the grass black.  Why?  Because they think setting their grass on fire will make their grass greener when it comes back.

Haven't these people heard of aeration or fertilizer? They'd rather set the whole neighborhood on fire? This Yankee doesn't get it.  All I have to say is, Oy Gewalt!

Before I leave, I'd like to say thank you to everyone who visited epublishing blog where I am a guest.  Thank you for sharing the article (if you haven't seen it, it's still up).  I know you're all busy with the A-Z challenge, so it means a lot that you took the time to hop over there!  You're awesome!

Fiesta Funnies and Guest Blog Post

Before I share the story, I'd like to let you all know that I'm a guest over at the epublishing blog, talking about why it's important to read to kids.  Please stop by and visit!  (I was told that there's a contest going on this month, too, where the guest author that gets the most shares will win a free animated version of their book, so if you wouldn't mind sharing the article when you get over there, I'd appreciate it!)

Now here's the story.  My daughter came home from school the other day, and I swear, it was just like she had drank a two-liter bottle of giggle juice.  She could not stop laughing.  Everything I said, she thought was the funniest thing in the world.

"Girl," I said. "I might be funny, but I know I'm not that funny!"

She laughed so hard, tears were coming out of her eyes.

I gave her the Mom squinty-eye look.  "What happened in school today?"

"We had a fiesta."

"A fiesta?" I asked.  I knew some light was about to be shed on this situation. "Tell me about your fiesta."

"There was lots of food.  Waffles with whipped cream.  Waffles with chocolate sauce.  Candy.  Doughnuts.  And some nachos with salsa."

I nodded.  The picture was becoming clearer.  "And how much of this fiesta food did you have?"

"Um....."  I could tell she was deliberating on how much to reveal.  "Three waffles, one doughnut, and a couple of pieces of candy."

I raised my eyebrows, to which she had another giggle fit. "But Mom, I was hungry!"

  

Exciting Experiment

At my house, there are always lots of experiments going on.  You may recall the chemistry set experiment that made my son so nervous, that he felt compelled to bring out the fire extinguisher.  Well, the prize for the most exciting experiment that has ever gone on at my house goes to one my husband and son did a couple of years ago.  It involved a two liter bottle of Coke and a roll of Mentos.

I watched as my husband and boy went out to the backyard armed with these two items.  "You're not going to do what I think you're going to do, are you?"

My husband grinned as he opened the bottle of Coke.  I watched in disbelief as he put not one, not two, but the entire roll of Mentos in with the Coke.

"Fire in the hole!" he yelled.

Let me just say, I have never seen a geyser of Coke like the geyser of Coke I saw on that day! It nearly reached the top of the very large tree it was near.

"That was awesome!" my son said, clearly impressed.  "Can we do it again?"

Right.

Dancing Mama

About a year ago, I had to take my daughter to a dance competition.  Since the venue was a considerable distance from our home, we spent the night at a hotel.

My daughter turned on the television and immediately found the music video channel.  The song that was playing was, Eye of the Hurricane, which I happen to like.  So what did I do?  I got up and started dancing - in my pajamas.

My daughter stared at me.  When I was done, she shook her head.  "Mom, you're really embarrassing me, and there's not even anyone else in the room!"

"Yeah, I know," I said. "Just doing my job!"

Chicken Poo

It was my son's fifth birthday.  We decided to have a big birthday party for him - at a farm.  All his friends were invited to come pet cute bunny rabbits, and milk goats.  Also on the list of things to do, was collect chicken eggs.  The farmer led the stalwart crew to the chicken coup where lots of hens were sitting around laying eggs.  It just so happened that some of those eggs had hatched into fluffy chicks.

"Aww," all the kids said.  "Can we pet them?"

"Tell you what," said the farmer.  "I'll let each of you wear a chicken party hat.  Stay real still, and I'll put one on your head.  Birthday boy is first."

My boy went up and stood in front while the farmer took a little red chick and put it on his head.  Unfortunately, the little red chick was not wearing a diaper.  Two seconds after he was placed on Bubba's head, he took a little dump.

Needless to say, the birthday boy was not very happy.  And needless to say, nobody else wanted a chicken party hat!  

Bologna Faces

Kids like to play with food.  It's inevitable.  I can't tell you how many milk bubbles I've seen in my life as a mom!  A couple of years ago, my kids were sitting at the kitchen table having lunch.  A bologna sandwich was sitting in front of them.  I watched as my son took out the slice of bologna and poked a hole through it with his finger.

"What are you doing, Bubba?" I asked.

"You'll see."  He poked another hole across from the first.  Then he poked another.   When he was done, he held it up to his face.  "How do you like my bologna face, Mama?"

I shook my head.  "Nice, Bubba."

My daughter thought that was an excellent idea, too, so she made a bologna face.  Soon both of my offspring were sporting bologna faces.

"You kids are full of bologna!" I said.

"No, we're not," my son said.  Then he ate his bologna face.  "But now I am!"


 

Ants in the Pants

Welcome to the A-Z Challenge!  Every day, except Sundays, I will do a post featuring each letter of the alphabet.  Most of these posts will be stories of things that have happened in the past.  But once in a while, if it works out, I'll do a current story.

Today letter, A, is about Ants.  Three years ago, my son, who was six, decided it would be great fun to dig up a red ant nest. The ants did not think that was a good idea, so they crawled in his pants and caused a whole lot of trouble!

I was in the kitchen when I heard the screaming.

"Mama, help!!!!!"

I ran into the garage and found my boy frantically trying to get ants off of his legs.

"Get out of your clothes!" I ordered.  The ants were all over his shorts, shirt, shoes, and socks.

He quickly obliged and ran into the house.  Meanwhile, this Mama waged war against the little red varmints.  I got out a can of Raid and put an end to their lives.

Now we have a little understanding with the ants.  My boy won't mess with them and they won't mess with us. Otherwise they'll face the wrath of the Queen Mama!