simone, my original baby

I came home after a 20 hour workday, hoping to catch some brainless action on Facebook or Twitter to de-stress, and lo and behold--what should greet me when I opened my laptop? A small swarm of red ants swimming in and out of the keys.

Simone.

She had complained about the same thing happening to her a few days ago--that ants were invading her desk, to which I replied: then don't eat there. "But all I eat is yoghurt!" She protested. I brushed it aside, attributing the presence of the ants to the freakish weather we were having lately.

Then, an epiphany tonight: Fruit Roll-Ups.

Simone got herself a motherlode of these from Derek when I came home from Dubai. She ate them everywhere--in bed, watching TV, at the table, at the computer.

First reaction was to scream and shake her from her sleep. Do you rinse your fingers after eating your roll-ups? I imagined myself telling her. The ants were all over my keyboard. Even after I had wiped the whole thing down with alcohol, they were back in full force, just as I turned my back. F&%k!

Then I stopped.

This was a good thing. Yes, the best thing that happened to me over the past 24 hours--the incompetent lawyer from Laguna, me learning that what Ungas had givne for his capital gains tax had been squandered, the late proofs, the driver calling my sons gay, making them cry, and me firing him on the spot (more on that in another post).

This meant my daughter was still, in many ways, mine. She was not given to having crushes left and right, like her classmates. She preferred sneakers to nail polish; considered it gross when a boy had a crush on her; actually enjoyed still horsing around with her brothers. She still asked permission from me if she wanted to hang out longer with her friends, and asked me--me! not her friends--to watch 17 Again and the David Cook/Archuleta concert this coming May 16 with her. She still loved Fruit Roll-Ups. She was still my little girl.



Still tried to kill them pesky ants, though. But they'll be back.