Dispatch from the Front

With the rain temporarily in abeyance, the twins were itching to get outside today and ride their training wheel bikes. After a trip around the block, the boys wanted to continue riding out front. I brought my book out onto the porch and sat down to watch them. Stephen took a break from riding and joined me.

"Ewwww! Red ants, Mama!" he said, pointing at the porch step. Sure enough there were dozens of little red ants crawling all over the porch. These red ants seem to be particularly prevalent this year; we've seen them everywhere.

A sudden, horrid though occurred to me. I leaned forward and turned to look at the house wall I'd been resting against. There were several of the tiny insects crawling around right where my back had been. I frantically brushed my shoulders and the back of my neck, certain that I was covered with ants. Of course I didn't find any; nevertheless, for the rest of the time I spent on the porch, I imagined bugs were crawling on me. I didn't stay outside long after that.

"My worst fears have been confirmed," Tab exclaimed melodramatically this afternoon. He had been talking today to a woman who also has three older boys: a 13-year-old and 18-year-old twins.

He continued, "I was right; we're not going to be able to afford to feed three teenaged boys." Tab had told me ages ago that our food bills will go through the roof when the boys hit their teens. He had said that when he was a teenager, he and his friends used to travel from one house to the next, cleaning out each pantry in turn. They were always warmly welcomed by his Polish grandmother. She could barely speak English, but she loved to cook and to feed hungry boys.

The woman Tab was talking to today said that her boys eat a box of cereal a day...each. When she cooks pasta, she has to make three pounds at a time; she needs a restaurant-sized collander in which to drain it. Her refrigerator is not big enough to hold the amount of milk they drink, so she has to buy several gallons every other day. And her sons constantly complain that she's starving them.

"Are these boys really huge or something?" I asked.

"No, they're regular-sized," Tab said. "That's just the way teen-aged boys are."

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