by Regis Boff
I would spend hours chasing ants, on my hands and knees, trying to burn them with a large magnifying glass angled perfectly to the summer sun’ rays. I had built fires this way in Boy Scouts. I used twigs, not ants, for that.
The ants often adopted a “clump together” stratagem in their insect terror, and this was a bad move.
In retrospect, there is a cruelty in children that blends agreeably with innocence.