Tonight’s post is a bit later than usual because it’s been a hectic week (raise your hand if you love budget season at work) and it was also our usual night at my Grandma’s. Well, sort of usual. Our family is expanding by two.
Nope, we didn’t drink the twin making water that our friends seemed to last year. We’ve got two more…dare I say…”pets”. One is a temporary one, but I had both my adult baby and ‘lil girl begging, pouty lipped, and “pleeeeez pleeeez”-ing it, so we’ll see how long it lasts. Tonight, G picked up a box turtle and a SNAKE. I HATE SNAKES and SPIDERS and all things ick, so I am not so happy.
And before you get all environmental on me, let me tell you that G’s childhood dream was to be The Crocodile Hunter. He loves animals, especially reptiles, and is always pointing them out to the kids. A and G probably know more about animals than 1/8th of my brain knows about scrapbooking or couponing, so that’s ALOT. G’s mom never let him have a snake growing up (hmm, I wonder why?), but he did have his fair share of birds, turtles, frogs, salamanders, lizards and such under his nurturing wing. He knows what he is doing and built a pretty cool terrarium (from what I can tell in pictures…I won’t go near the thing) for them to live in. They have plenty of food, water, and hiding spots.
As for names of these creatures? A few suggestions for the turtle have been “Sugarcakes 2” (because my brother had a turtle from a pet shop that he named Sugarcakes), “Black and Gold [not that Black and Yellow crap]” (my Dad, because the turtle is black and yellow and he is somehow not all about “Black and Yellow”), and Wiz (my cousin R, because of Wiz’s “Black and Yellow”, to which G said it was appropriate because “he whizzed in the bag we brought him to Grandma’s in”). Sounds like Wiz is probably going to win out. The snake? Well, I made a deal with G that he could keep him for the weekend, so he doesn’t want to name something he has to just let go in a few days. If he survives the weekend and can stay outside, I just might let him keep him. . . we shall see.
Now I see why my mom instituted the “No more animals with 4 legs, 2 legs, 1 leg, 8 legs, 6 legs…” rule that my brother and I promptly broke that evening by getting goldfish at a carnival. [Our argument, “they don’t have legs and you didn’t say anything about no legs”, won out and I had my fish for 7 years before my cousins dumped the whole can of fish food in the tank and he gorged himself to death.] Too bad I know this rule, too, would backfire on me. Karma, baby, Karma.