Bullant

I am busy making dinner when the sliding door opens.

"Mama!!!" cries out Sabina, full of tears.

I drop everything, race to the door, my mind conjuring up all the worst case scenarios, my heart reaching out in sympathy. I come to a sliding stop on my knees right in front of my little girl. She looks upset, for sure, her pants seem to be a bit dirty (but that's normal at the farm), but I can't really see what else is wrong.

"Mama!!!", she screams sobbing. "Get it off me! Get it off me!".

The fading light makes it hard to see, but I suddenly work out that the pants are not dirty - that's bullants crawling over my little girl - about four of them. Instantly, I brush them off with a couple of agressive strokes. Then I pick her up, sit her on a chair and rip the pants off in a single motion. It appears the bullant problem is solved.

"Ouaaa", sobs Sabina, pointing to a red spot on her leg. "That naugtie bullant! Mama, that was a naughtie bullant. I hate that bullant. It's a naughtie bullant. Why did the naughtie bullant bite me mama?"

(Yes, it's not a "naughty" bullant. It's a "naughtie" bullant. So cute!)