Lessons In Stupidity, Part I

FIRE ANTS

When I was four years old, my mother and father had gone to my grandfather's house to pick corn. My grandpa had planted a good 3 acres of sweet white corn, and had told them they were welcome to as much as they could carry. They took me along, and told me that I could pick some if I wanted to, but otherwise just to stay within the rows and near enough that I could be seen.

When we got there, grandpa gave each of us a 5-gallon bucket. Mom and Dad walked into the cornfield and got to work. I followed close behind, but after picking a few ears, I got bored with this sort of drudgery. I put the few ears I had picked in the wheelbarrow Dad had brought to haul our final harvest, and wandered off to find something to do with my empty bucket in hand.

As I rounded a corner of tall cornstalks, I saw it. It was tremendous. It was amazing. It was unbelievably enormous. It was...*insert dramatic chord played in minor key here*

A HUGE FIRE ANT MOUND!

Of course, my little baseball-sized brain only had one idea...STOMP ON IT! But wait, I can't just stomp on it, they'll get all over my legs! I have to come up with...a...plan...*think, think*

AHA! I knew what I was going to do! I walked over to the mound, placed my bucket (bottom side down) on top of the ant mound, and climbed into the bucket. The mound was flattened under my weight, and I laughed as the ants scurried around, looking hopelessly for the culprit. Ha-ha-ha-ha-HA! I have outwitted you ants!

But wait, what's this? Hmm. They seem to be crawling up the SIDE of the bucket I am standing in! I watch this phenomenon, and see that they are now moving faster, and purposefully upward, over the top, and now down the inside of the bucket! My little baseball sized brain now sees that this was not such a good idea after all.

Of course, you can see there is a relatively easy solution to this problem. I may sustain a few bites, but a way out is clear. Simply hop out of the bucket, run like a few dozen feet away, and knock the ants off my feet and ankles. A few bites, yes, but a way out of this situation.

Is that what I did?

Nope.

Next simple solution, which would be the more likely of the two you would imagine a sane four year old would reach for. Call for help. "HEY! DAD! MOM! I'M IN FIRE ANTS!" Of course, they'd come running, and whisk me away...safe as could be.

Is that what I did?

Nope.

Final solution. Not simple, but a quick thinking kid could have thought of this. Strip off my shirt, throw it down outside the bucket, hop out, use the shirt as a landing pad, and run away. Thereby keeping ants off my foot as I escaped.

Is that what I did?

Not a chance.

What did this "Boy Genius" do to get out of this situation?

I called to my mom in a calm, clear voice...

"Momma, can you come here to me?"

My mother of course, busy with her work said "What is it Daniel?"

I thought quickly, then said "Um, I want you to see this, please?"

My mother said "I will soon. We are busy right now, okay sweetheart?"

DRAT! FAIL! MUST TRY A DIFFERENT TACTIC!

"Daddy, I need you." I said calmly, but with the slightest hitch in my voice."

My father was occupied as well, but said "What do you need, Daniel?"

"U--u-mm..." I stammered. "I really need you, please...?"

My father said "Why do you need us to come over there?"

The first ants began to crawl onto my feet and ankles, and the first of many white-hot bites began to assault my bare legs.

"Daddy, please...please! Come here, please? I need you!"

My father was curious now, and said "What's wrong?"

"I...I...I...I....I'm LONELY!" I said with a pitiful whine.

My father and mother both said "Well why don't you come back over here? You won't be lonely anymore."

The ants were swarming now. Dozens of bites were zapping my bare legs and knees, and I said with a pleading wail "Please?! I'm really, really LONELY!"

I started crying.

My father heard my tears and walked over to me. When he saw the situation I was in, he snatched me up out of the bucket, stripped my clothes completely off, and frantically swept away the ants that had now made their way into parts unmentionable.

I remember him flapping my clothes in the air, shaking off any ants that had made their way onto my pant legs and underwear.

I stood there, stark naked, pinpricks of fire all over my legs, and trembled with shock as my mother ran to scoop me up and carry me to the car.

To this day, I have no earthly idea why I lied and said I was lonely. Any myriad of answers would have brought them running, and yet I chose a lie so witless that I might as well have said "Umm...I'm going through a paradigm shift."

Is there a moral to this story? Probably somewhere. Instead of a cutesy ending to this story or a pithy foundational truth though, I will instead share this song. It was playing on the portable radio my father had brought along, lying by the wheelbarrow as the fire ants took their revenge on a stupid boy with nothing better to do than torment them. To this day, when I hear this song, my legs begin to itch.