The Serial Biter

If you've spent much time in the South, you've probably become acquainted with fire ants. My dad likes to say that these little buggers all bite down at the same time: they spread out over their victim before chomping down precisely at the same moment so that the victim has several bites before she even realizes that she's got ants crawling up her leg. That's exactly what happened to me Thursday evening, giving me a nice little souvenir to bring home from Louisiana.

I arrived back in California Saturday evening, just in time to fulfill my nursery duties at Church. But I admit that I was too tired to pay too much attention to the kids. On Friday I spent an hour working out at my Mom's gym. Then I took my little sister swimming at the neighborhood pool. After that I played racquetball with my fifteen-year-old brother. We played three games and he won all three. I'm not sure if he even broke a sweat, but by the third game I felt like lying down on the floor. Then, that evening at dinner, I danced with my sister to the Cajun music (okay, that really didn't require too much physical exertion on my part). After staying up until eleven-thirty, I woke up the next morning at 4:45 a.m. in order to make it to Houston in time to catch my flight. I went to bed early Saturday night, but it's safe to say that although I was in the nursery in body, I wasn't really there in spirit.

Our nursery room has a great set up. It has it's own bathroom with a smaller toilet and is connected to a patio where the kids can ride tricycles or play in a giant plastic house. But with temperatures in the nineties, all three nursery leaders, including myself, were hiding inside with the air conditioning. All of a sudden Matthew started wailing. Sometimes he cries when the other kids won't let him in the house. When I went to see what was wrong, he showed me his balled up fist, which had two little marks on his finger. I thought maybe his hand got pinched by the tricycle, so I picked him up to comfort him. Then another little girl started crying and then another little girl and then another. Suddenly it was mass pandemonium. Jane stood near me wailing with her arms outstretched. On the inside of her elbow I could see the obvious marks of a set of teeth and broken skin. At this point I heard Nursery Leader One yelling, "We don't ever bite, ever!" After the first little girl started crying, NL1 had turned around just in time to see the biter attached to Jane's elbow. She yanked the biter off and dragged her over to a chair for time out, where the biter started to scream herself. Since NL1 was busy dragging the biter and because I happen to have ample hips, I picked up Jane too and waddled with both children over to a table where I could sit down. Just like fire ants, our biter had attacked several kids before we realized what was going on. I'm not sure what set her off, but I think she just started biting every kid she could get her mouth on.

After a moment or two Jane and the other little girl who also got bit calmed down, but Matthew continued to cry. Finally I took him to his mom. As soon as she took him, he started to cry even harder. He sounded so pathetic, it broke my heart and then I started to cry. I was probably just tired, and I didn't really cry too much. My voice just wavered a bit when I explained to Matthew's mom what had happened. When I got back to nursery, everyone seemed calmer--even the biter had quieted down to sniffles--but NL1 was treating her like a wild animal, steering kids away from her. I didn't want her to feel too ostracized. After all, this was her first time in nursery and her parents' first time at Church. So, I sat down beside her and read her a story. But even I felt a little wary, keeping the other kids who wanted to hear the story on the other side of me.

The whole experience was pretty traumatic for me and I didn't even get bit. But I'm hoping the other kids have already forgotten about what happened, including the biter. I hope she comes back next week, but if she does, this time I'll be sure to keep my eye on her. I've had enough fire ant bites to know that getting bit once is plenty.