Really. I don’t.
So, as you can imagine, when this tiny, harmless enormous, ferocious looking thing snuck up on me while weeding the other day, my heart almost stopped.
It was like a scene straight out of Anaconda. Only I don’t look like J.Lo in a bikini. Or a wetsuit, for that matter.
While pushing a 10 pound, 6 ounce baby out of…a considerably smaller hole…doesn’t seem to phase me all that much, snakes just freak me out.
Rightfully so, I say.
Images of it swallowing my babies whole flashed through my mind, and left me no choice but to break out the wooden spoons lasso to wrangle the sucker.
As I’m sure you can see, it was hard to find a jar large enough to contain the imminent danger.
My daughter’s suggestion that we call it satan resonated well with me.
Clearly, they were terrified.
The reality that there may be more of these babies giants slithering below our deck – where this one emerged from – gives me the heebie-de-jeeb-e-dees.
Like I said, I don’t like snakes.
I can do caterpillars, though, rest assured. Even giant worms. Seeing I’m a country girl now and all.
But snakes, they’re just too….um, well…unpredictable. And sneaky. And scary looking.
So, as I’m sure you can appreciate, when my husband suggested my daughter release this monster beside our deck – you know, the one we play on, and eat dinner on, and seek refuge from giant snakes on – my heart almost stopped. Again. What on God’s green earth was he thinking?!?
It was an emotional day.
But I’m sure you understand.
