Ants in his Pants (OK, Shirt)

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I think I’ve written before about how much insects love my boy. His sweet little skin is ambrosia to mosquitoes, his blood a tonic to black flies. And to some other mysterious bug, Owen is so delicious that the creature had to go back for a fiftieth helping.

I am not even close to kidding.

Last Thursday, Owen came home from daycare as usual, ate supper, played, went upstairs for his bath. But when I pulled up his shirt, I . . .

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