Like her father, Julia is a very picky eater. Because she turns food down so often, when she makes specific requests I almost always oblige, which means several days a week she eats peanut butter and jelly sandwiches or cheese and crackers or yogurt covered raisins for breakfast.
This morning she wanted apple slices. No problem. I got an apple, peeled the skin off, cut it into wedges and went to get a bowl from the cupboard. I was just about to toss the wedges in the bowl when I noticed it was full of crumbs.
Crumbs that were moving. Crawling. Crumbs that weren’t crumbs but instead, ants. Teeny, tiny little brown ants that were so small that they were almost transparent.