Last night after dinner, daddy was cleaning the kitchen and noticed a few tiny bits of brown gunk stuck under the kitchen counter. It looked like dried up bits of chocolate, so of course daddy went to work trying to clean it off. You threw a huge fit while daddy was cleaning. You were yelling and then just sobbing onto my shoulder and you kept talking about some man called "the hole collector". You kept saying that daddy was erasing all the holes. I kept asking where you learned about the hole collector, thinking that you had seen something on the television, and then you really got upset and explained to me with exasperation that the "hole collector" was a "real human" and that he was "really alive".
It took us a while, but we finally figured out that you were talking about the exterminator and daddy had cleaned off the little tiny gels that were left in order to rid us of the ant problem we had long forgotten about.
I don't know how you came up with the term "hole collector" instead of exterminator, or why you thought those things were holes, but I love your passion for life and how you care about small things. I guess it's a matter of perspective.
I love you dear, and I hope that when you are older, I can let you read this blog and we can sit back and laugh about it together.