So cute you wouldn't call the exterminator

I'd gone outside to call the big boys in the other day, and on the way back into the house, I nearly stepped on Audrey.

Irritated, I stepped around her and ordered her inside too.

"Just a minute, Mommy,"  she insisted, her body bent over a drawing she was doing on the sidewalk right outside the door.  She scribbled furiously, as though the chalk would disappear in the time it took her to complete her picture.

I sighed, exasperated.  I'd gotten two hours of sleep the night before, thanks to a bout of insomnia that Audrey shared with me, and I was well beyond tolerating anything that varied from "Okay, Mommy" at this point.

"Come ON,"  I urged her, as her brothers breezed past us.

She looked up at me, brows knit, and said, "Just one more second, please.  How do you make a six?"

Oh, good lord.

"Getinsidethishouserightnow."  I gritted my teeth.

"Mommy.  Please, just a minute."  I looked over her shoulder, at the little grid of squares, with numbers in them.

"What are you doing?"  I growled.

"I'm making hopscotch.  I'm almost done, it's hopscotch for ants."

I looked again.  Sure enough, each small square had a number in it, and the grid was laid out in the usual hopscotch pattern.

It was adorable.  Sigh.

"There, I'm done,"  she announced as she made the last square.

I smiled, and she must have felt my mood shift in her favor.  "What's so funny, Mommy?"  she asked.

"Nothing.  That's cute.  I love it.  But, um, honey, those are some giant ants you've made the hopscotch for--the squares a just a smidge to big,"  I explained, shuddering at the thought of the size the ant would have to be to make it to the end square.

"That's okay,"  she explained.  "They can jump reeealll far."

Fabulous.

Giant mutant jumping ants, that's all we need.

I didn't break it to her, I just patted her head and brought her inside.

And when I napped, I dreamt of antennae...