Conversation with Trent:
I’m busy writing because I have an article due by end of day (read: scrolling through Facebook and checking my hair for split ends), when Trent walks in the back door. “Mom! Do we have any ant killer?”
“Probably, why?”
“Because, I think we might need some. You should come look.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yea, come on.”
I walk outside in my bare feet because they’ve been tucked under me while I’ve been “writing”. He leads me to two of the trees that look like they’ve shed all of their leaves, but since some of them are still clinging for dear life, I refuse to rake until they fall and die. So, I tip toe over trying to get my little toes poked by sharp leaves and sure enough all of the ants in Round Rock have found two of my oak trees and are having some sort of field day marathon.
“See, mom, we need ant killer.”
“Yea, you should talk to your dad about that,” I told him as I walked inside. “That is totally his thing.”
