The ringleader of the snake-loving contingent is thirteen-year-old Anna Marie who has made many requests to bring a snake home over the years. All such requests have fallen on suitably deaf ears. Until the last request, that is.
In a moment of weakness, I said yes. I know, I know. Weak.
There are rules, mind you: the snake must reside in the unfinished basement, the snake must inhabit an enclosed aquarium, and the snake may never, EVER be carried upstairs.
So, now, I share my home and property with one devoted husband, six sometimes-but-not-normally-devoted children, a cat with a hair loss problem, who-knows-how-many chickens (daily tally changing due to butchering season), and A SLITHERING REPTILE!
Lord help me.
I'm trying to do my part to encourage nature study in our homeschool. Trying.
Suffice it to say that if Gwin the Snake (named after a character in "Inkheart") decides to escape, our nature study is OVER.
Harsh? Perhaps.
But I do take some satisfaction in the startled responses from moms who learn that I am actually allowing (for the moment at least) a live snake to take up residence in our basement. Indeed, I surprise even myself.
But I do take some satisfaction in the startled responses from moms who learn that I am actually allowing (for the moment at least) a live snake to take up residence in our basement. Indeed, I surprise even myself.
Like I say, I'm trying.
1 comment:
Ew! Ew ew ew ew!
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