My daughter is a chip off the ol’ block. Not my block though. Unlike me, she has a true adventurer spirit and likes to break the rules. Please do not confuse the fact that she likes pink and gemstones with the inference that she is “a girly girl”. Cue the corn snake.
My little miss has a thing for creatures, especially ones that other people cringe at. Anybody will pick up a soft little kitten or a toy poodle. What fun is that? She likes the thrill that comes with finding a creature somewhere on our property that most people would run from. It gives her a few hours of wild playtime. Was she dismayed when we looked it up on the internet and saw that corn snakes have teeth (not fangs) and will quite readily bite? Actually strike, poised like a rattler? Nope. She simply ran in the house, grabbed gardening gloves and reached into the bucket.
The fun didn’t end there though. Nope. After two hours of playing with the little guy (outside of course – mummy doesn’t let yucky things that I’m terrified of in the house), my daughter was pleased as punch to run up and show me a new development.
Cue the regurgitated mole.
Oh joy! After being mauled for what was apparently too long, the snake tossed his lunch in the bucket. My daughter got to witness the entire thing. She was fascinated. Seemed he was just lightening his load though, because the next time she “took him for a walk” on the grass, he slithered away so fast she didn’t have a chance to grab him and get him back into the bucket.
She cried, then pouted, robbed of her new pet. I’m sure he celebrated the escape in his own slithery way. I though, did not celebrate. Since she lost him closer to the house than when she originally found him, I now have visions of a corn snake hanging out under my porch until he’s 6-feet long.
Cue the mom with ophidiophobia.