There was a company of ants attacking a grain of rice on the table next to me computer. I had not seen them, but Becca had, calling out “Mot, mot!” (Thai for ‘ant’);
Some toy had rolled deep in the narrow space between the bed and the end table, further back than the length of Becca’s arm. So she grabbed a hair brush to use as an arm-extension. Fist time I ever saw her do that.