Lord of the Ants.

In the last two days, Noah and I've done a couple of longer-than-usual car rides, because we had to shuttle Spherical Dad back and forth to take his motorcycle in for service. So we had more time in the car to talk. And sing songs. And stare out the window. And talk about our day.

During one of these rides, he told me about finding ants on the playground, and the kids all like the ants on the playground, and they also like the caterpillars, but if Monica or someone with a name like that steps on the caterpillars, then the juice comes out of their butts, and that's gross. So we ride along in silence contemplating that profound disgustingness, and I hear him begin to recite something.

Now, I'm getting used to Noah launching into songs that I didn't know he knew. He hit me with "Shoo Fly, Don't Bother Me" the other day, and heck, I didn't know the words to it! He broke out into "You're a Grand Old Flag" at full voice a few weeks ago, and I have a feeling that that one's for his end-of-year school program, coming up in a week. But this wasn't a song. This was fervently whispered in a rhythmic cadence, with a little extra gusto on the last line.

I listened carefully. Couldn't make it out. Something about an ant.

So I asked him to say it louder, and with very little invitation, he bursts forth with this poem, which he says "all the kids on the playground say" while they watch the ants.

Hey little ant down in the crack

Can you hear me? Can you talk back?

See my shoe? Can you see that?

Now it's going to squish you flat!

Much of the rest of the ride was a discussion of not hurting God's creatures unnecessarily. We'll have to see if it's getting through.