Serial Killer



Earlier this evening, Sophie was out on the front porch with our babysitter. All was very copacetic until Chloe joined them.

The screaming started, and continued unabated until I went outside to see what was going on. It turns out that Sophie was stomping on ants. And when Chloe tried to explain to her, very gently, that killing living creatures was cruel and inhuman, Sophie got very angry and cried out in consternation. Every time Chloe would tried to protect the ants from Sophie’s little feet, Sophie would go beserk.

I then intervened and gave Sophie a lecture on the beauty of nature. I tried to reason with her: “Sophie, you like animals, don’t you?” “Yes,” she responded somewhat sheepishly. “You like elephants and tigers, and dogs and butterflies, don’t you?” “Yes.” “Ants are also part of nature, and you need to let them live so they can find food for their families and build ant hills.” “No. Kill ants.” And she proceeded to send a few more of the little buggers to ant heaven.

Isn’t this how future serial killers start their careers? Maybe she sensed the lack of sincerity in my lecture. I do hate ants. Especially when they’re in packs. And I probably used to kill them too. But Sophie is my daughter! This was not acceptable behavior. What happens when she gets sick of ants? When they no longer pose a challenge? Will she graduate to larger insects? Ladybugs? Grasshoppers? Worms? Or set her sights higher? Small rodents? Ugh.

By the way, little Sophie can do a somersault. A real somersault. And she’s not even three years old. Should we be impressed? Maybe we can help her direct her ant-killing energies to gymnastics.

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