ants in my pants

My aunt Mattie (my great-great- aunt to be exact) lived with us off and on growing up. Even as a child, I thought she was tiny (think of a short Jessie Martinez). She was the "baby" in her family, and was the next to the last of that generation of Johnsons. Whenever I squirmed a little too much for her, she would ask me if I had ants in my pants.
Why is it easier for some people to sit still than others? After I had the flu during high school, I could always tell when we'd passed the thirty minute segment in class without looking at my watch. My hip joints would begin to hurt and squirming in my seat would alleviate some of the tension until that bell rang and I could stand up. If things went well my joints popped immediately and I could move normally. If my joints didn't pop right away, I'd stand and wiggle and pretend to rearrange my books or look for a paper until I could move properly. Then I moved off to FWBBC where we were required to wear skirts and hose. Sitting in an uncomfortable desk in a ladylike way is not compatible with squirmy girls and achy joints. That's one of the things I love about dress pants; I can sit comfortably.
And I ponder these crazy things during church, of all places.
It never fails. At a certain point my "ants in my pants" kick in, and I start squirming to alleviate or eliminate certain kinks or pains. It seems as if the people all around me are sitting so still and attentive, and then there's me. I've seriously considered moving to the back so I could stand up and stretch when I need to, but after trying unsuccessfully for 8 years to get Bobby in the front I'm not sure I want to undo what progress we've made.
So if you ever see me squirming consistently during the sermon, I'm not agitated or upset. I just have ants in my pants.