Every day immediately after my six year-old son comes home from school he wants me to go into his room with him and check on his pets. He looks forward to it all day. Tragedy struck this afternoon; one of the pets he loved and cared so much for has gone to visit the Lord.

Santa Claus brought him an ant farm for Christmas. The ants had to be ordered separately, so I ordered them the day after Christmas. Unfortunately they were backordered and he had to wait. Every day we went out and checked the mailbox and for two weeks I had to look at his disappointed face.

Finally the ants arrived, he was so excited. We prepped the ant farm, then took the ants out of the test tube and introduced them to their new home. The very next morning he was thrilled to see them already digging a tunnel. Every Friday he reminded me that we had to take the lid of so they could get some fresh air.

Today he went to check on them by himself, then I heard it, "Dad, Daddy! I think one of my ants is sick!"

I knew this day would come, I was only hoping it wouldn't have been so soon. Since there's a foot and a half of snow on the ground we can't even give him a proper burial.

RIP, little fella.