Tolerance

While I was still knee-high to a grasshopper, I participated in a class project that involved building an ant farm for our class. Everyone was allowed to bring in a jar full of ants on opening day, so I spent the weekend gathering ants while avoiding the temptation to cook them with a magnifying glass.

On the grand opening of our elaborate "farm," each of us little first grade hobgoblins lined up to empty our jars of ants into their new homes. Immediately, most of them began crawling into their little tunnels and making themselves at home.

For some reason, however, my ants just roamed around on the surface. The teacher could see I was concerned about my ants not entering their wonderful new tunnels and he came over to console me. In a comforting voice he said they were not going into their holes because, in his words, "you've got taller ants!"

I have no tolerance sometimes, but then there are other times when I am the model of patience and understanding.

Flipping a coin can usually determine which side of the fence I am on.