All my children have gone through a phase where they idealize my sister as the coolest person on the planet. This past summer my fifth child (Jane, 4yrs) had her turn. Sussette took Jane tubing (well, floating with a life jacket and noodle) down the river. Aunt Sussie also helped Janie with her bug fear by “giving” her a lubber (looks like a giant grasshopper) to play with at Troy Springs. Tragedy occured on the lubber day! While leaving the park Jane began to cry hysterically. She turned from from the front of the group and came to the back of the line where I was. After a few minutes of breathing “so mommy can understand you”, Jane sobbed, “I hate dose fire ants. I hate dem!” I asked her if ants bit her while frantically searching her body to exterminate the little demons that would dare hurt my baby. “Nooooooo, they killed my lubber! The lubber Aunt Shusie gave me.” As it turns out, on the path ahead of us there was a dead lubber being eaten by fire ants. We reasured her that was not her lubber because hers was healthy and wouldn’t let ants get him. She felt better, but said she still hates fire ants. I feel the same way.