Little Ants

We drink Splenda in our coffee, but we keep it next to the espresso machine in a sterling silver-plated sugar bowl. Acorn pattern. A little bit of fake in a little bit of, well, fancier fake. I'm telling you this because, if he comes upon the sugar bowl not tucked away but out on the countertop where he can reach it, my son likes to push both of his fists into the powdery/grainy sugar substitute and fling bits of it everywhere. It falls like dry bits of snowy sugary fairy dust from his hands. Some of it makes it into his mouth, but most of it lies strewn all over whatever surface is nearby.

Yesterday, that surface was my poor depressed laptop. She is getting old, and decrepit. In spite of having gotten a new harddrive about 2 years ago, and probably because of having been dropped at least one time, the laptop I used to call Pele is running painfully slow. Now, there is sugar stuck under the keys. I hear a little crunchy noise as I type, especially over in the "r" and "s" area.

I call the babies (cause actually, both of them do it, Sean is just the more enthusiastic) my little ants whenever they get into the sugar. But they may just be the death of my little red lava laptop before too long.