Lovely #2 has discovered ants.
I haven’t decided if she is excited or afraid of the little things yet. She does exclaim ‘Ants!’ when she sees one, and peers down at them. Then she makes a big circle around the entire area that the ant is roaming in…I’d say a 4 ft circumference. Once she is past the ant and home free, she looks back to make sure the ant is still there, and also to make sure the ant has not grown to her size and isn’t standing right behind her to put his creepy legs on her. I know. I was a little girl once too.
There is seriously something about girls and bugs. We hate them. We hate their legs, we hate their millions of eyes, we hate their fuzzy little feelers. I can truly say that there is nothing that I really like about bugs. That indescribable ‘It’s on me!’ feeling. It gives me the willies just thinking about it.
I know that spiders and bees and ants have their purpose in the great circle of life. I’ve seen The Lion King, ok?
I find it amusing that my 2 yr old little Lovely is a little freaked by teeny tiny ants. It means that she is girlier than girly. It means that I am doomed. It means she will be afraid of books with pictures of ants, and any other bug resembling an ant. It’s not really fair to teach her to aquash the ants either. I mean, they haven’t done anything wrong…yet. She’s not afraid of dogs that tower over her. She isn’t afraid of strange men like her sister was. She isn’t afraid of climbing up the steps to go down the slide all by herself. She seems to have no fear, except for ants. Except for something that is smaller than her little eyelashes, smaller than an eyebrow hair, smaller than a piece of rice.
I’m afraid that she is afraid.