Bird Boy

In one of the many houses we had growing up, there was a giant ant hill in the backyard. My little brother spent countless hours sitting outside in the middle of that thing. He called them his "friends," which is probably why he didn't have very many friends of the two-legged persuasion at that time. The second we got home from school he would run outside and sit down amongst his loyal subjects. There he would referee fights, help them carry pieces of wood and food, hell - for all I know he was the architect for their colony. He was God of the ant pile, defender of justice, instituting ant morality as he saw fit. He never came in until dark and always had one or two of his followers with him. It drove my mom crazy, but what could she do. They were his "friends."

It must be biological because Evan is obsessed with the chickens. Evan is Bird Boy; King of the Fowl. He even talks to them in that strange half-cluck they do that I can't even begin to imitate. A couple of years from now I expect to find him in the chicken coup trying to lay an egg.

Side Note: I strongly suspect Evan ate some chicken poop while I was taking this picture. That boy is going to be immune to salmonella and e coli like no other.