Sunday, March 10, 2013

The Ant Farm Haunts Me

The Ant Farm Still Haunts Me

My son received an ant farm, minus the ants, for Christmas.  Santa brought him the ant farm.  I really need to have a little talk with Santa.

I bought him the ants.  I really need to sit myself down and have a little talk with myself.

I ordered the ants and they arrived dead.

This was not too traumatic because my son and I convinced ourselves they were just tired from their trip. The instructions did say they could arrive "sluggish."

Getting dead ants into a plastic ant farm is really easy. There is no screaming, sweating, or incontinence. However, it only took a few days for us to realize these ants had a bad case of death vs a sleep disorder.

I was hoping that would be it.  Bummer.  No ants for the ant farm.

My son had other ideas.  Under pressure from my son, I called the ant company. I explained about the arrival of dead ants and, unfortunately, that company offers really excellent customer service. They immediately shipped a new batch of ants free of charge.

This is when things got interesting.

The package arrived in the mail and it felt warm.  The nice ant company put some sort of warmer in the bag to keep this new batch of ants from freezing on their journey to my home.

Like the first batch of dead ants, the second batch arrived in a small, plastic vial.  Unlike the first batch, these ants were very clearly not dead.  In fact, they looked rather rabid and excited.

The warning labels were clear.  These ants will bite and they will try to escape.   Under no circumstances should they be released into the wild.  Oh goodie!

My children and I ceremoniously carried the vial and the ant farm outside.  No way was I going to open that vial of ants in my home.

The ant farm is about 6 inches long and one inch wide.  It has a lid that pops off the top. The plan to relocate ants from container A to container B seems simple enough.  Open the lid on the ant farm, open the lid on the vial and dump ants into their new home.


Here is reality.

"Calmly" take lid off ant farm.
Beg your son to take vial from you.
Watch your son shriek in horror while running in place at the mere thought of touching vial full of squirming ants.
Take a deep breath, open vial, ignore the shrieking sound you hear, watch ants crawl everywhere except into ant farm, pee your pants just a little, drop vial into ant farm, close lid, and realize the shrieking sound is coming from your own mouth.
Watch your son run around the porch squishing all the ants that managed to escape with his shoes.
Take another deep breath as you then watch your son carry the art farm BACK INTO YOUR HOME.

All of this to say, the experience has made me think differently about having "ants in my pants."


1 comment:

  1. The only thing that would be worse is being the guy who packages the ants for shipment!!