Caleb caught a lizard at our property. He was so smitten by it that he bought a golden palace complete with heat lamps and a suction-cup tent. He comes home and sits with “Shredder” on his chest every night. It is his love, it is his passion.
The kids think it’s kind of cool, too.
So yesterday, Caleb went to Pet Smart to see what kind of food our lizard eats. He was told that they like ants, and FYI, it’s illegal to own one.
He shook it off, bought some crickets, came home, and told the kids this newfound information.
They were upset, and not because we will probably have to say good-bye to our brand-new pet. No, my kids were straight freakin‘ over the alleged criminal activity taking place in our household. Our affiliation with this reptile has us on the run; we’re outlaws, fugitives. This disturbs the kids greatly, and Merrick cried for 2 hours last night, worried to death that the police would bust through our door at any given minute.
At least I know my kids will most likely be law-abiding citizens when they grow up.
After we finally got them settled down (“Technically, since we found Shredder on our land, then we’re legally responsible for him and we have to look out for him and we were worried that he wasn’t getting enough food and water so we had to bring him here for rehab and we’ll probably return him when he’s ready and we only care about his survival for the greater good of all his species. Now please go the heck to sleep.”) Caleb and I watched an entire movie for the first time since ball season started. (Lately we can’t seem to get to bed before 10:00 or stay awake for more than 5 minutes once there.)
“12 Years a Slave” was what we rented…and now, I kind of hate white people, except for Brad Pitt. Also I dreamt that I was mercilessly tortured all night long. Most depressing movie ever. The American South? Must have been the d-bag capitol of the world until at least the middle of the last century, with the exception of Nazi Germany. Can I just state that my ancestors didn’t even live in the United States until the 1920’s?
And I hope that if I ever do act ridiculously ugly to another person, someone like Brad Pitt will be there to call me out on it.
I had a doctor’s appointment Tuesday that went awesome. I do have to take the dreaded routine glucose test again–even though they already made me do it once at the beginning of my pregnancy just for fun. The baby is growing, better than it needs to actually. At the end of this month, I get to go to the doctor every two weeks. Yay me and yay my daughter.
I have a child in my care this summer who would like for me to feed him marshmallows for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s kind of cute, but the fact that I’ve had him for 2 weeks yet I have not managed to sneak one single vegetable into his tummy concerns me. His tastebuds are supernatural–nothing gets past them, not even spaghetti sauce (ew, tomatoes.) My next trick will involve spinach smoothies with lots and lots of chocolate.
P.S. Before you go calling the Animal Welfare Rescue Aid Society on us, we’re going to take the horny toad back to the property, and probably fill its palace with some other stupid reptile like a bearded dragon and keep it 12 years a pet. Because nothing says yummers like keeping meal worms in the back of the fridge. My life is so gross-balls sometimes. I give up.