They Struck Again! or, Ode to the Treat Bag

The ants. In the Treat Bag.

Yes, the very same short paper bag that has held a place of high honor in my eyes for many years. The one that could, almost magically, produce sweet things whenever Mom or Dad commanded. The one that has held many pieces of wonderful delicacies to delight my young taste buds. Over the years its volume dwindled, until all it contained were some old, gooey Jolly Ranchers, empty Pez containers, and maybe an old lemon drop or two. My, but those ants on the Jolly Ranchers sure were happy. I'm sure they died with smiles on their little ant faces.

We tracked their line up the cupboard and along the tops of the cupboards over the kitchen counter and stove. My mother had her secret weapons handy, especially Sponge, which came very much in handy for smushing and crushing the tiny bodies and wiping them away. It hurt some to throw away the old Treat Bag...I will always hold it in a position of high esteem in my memories...it will always be to me the Treat Bag, with capital letters...and someday I will bring it to life again for my own children, teaching them the value of delayed gratification, i.e., occasional treats, instead of demanded, taken-for-granted candy. And someday I will be the mother, bravely defending her home from the unwanted invaders, probably with the same weapons as my own mother.

And someday, ants will fear me...