James Has Ants

"Mama, James has ants."

"Oh, dear!"

"And one day he brought his lunchbox to school..."

[Remembering the head lice precautions instituted in early November, Mama has visions of a stream of ants descending on the classroom lunch table from poor James's lunchbox.]

"...And they put peanut butter in because they didn't know we weren't allowed to have peanut butter at school."

Momentarily confused, Mama suddenly gets it and starts to giggle.

Son glowers, and says in an accusatory tone, "What's so funny?"

"Honey, what do you think James's aunts look like?"

"I don't know. Red, maybe? Or black."

Mama bursts out laughing, imagining two large maiden Ants standing on their hindmost pair of legs, wearing aprons, and making forbidden peanut butter sandwiches for little James.

"What? WHAT is so funny?"

"Honey, there are two words that sound alike: ants like a little ant, a bug; and aunts like Auntie MIQ. I'm guessing James has some aunts who are Aunties, and they are the ones who packed his lunch." Son begins to smile. I continue, "Do you think some little tiny ant bugs could pack peanut butter in his lunch for him?"

Son begins to giggle, then turns serious. "But, mama," he says. "I heard James's mama say so. She came to pick him up, and she said James has ants. So. Maybe they are. Ant. "

He looks quite sure of himself. I have learned that when he gets such a schema in his head, it is almost impossible to alter. So I counter with nothing else, and I drop him off at school, secure in his vision of lunch-packing bugs.

Who knows? Maybe I am wrong about James. Maybe he does have ants who whip up sandwiches for him in utter ignorance of preschool rules.

And maybe his house is shaped like a giant peach.




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