Don't Bring a Snake in the House

Don't pick up snakes, don't tell me about snakes,don't show me pictures of snakes, don't bring snakes into the house.  NO SNAKES ALLOWED!

Those were the strict instructions at our house, still are.  Did my kids listen?  HA!  Julie and Jacob abided by the rules, but Sarah struggled with them.  So guess who brought a snake into the house?  I think it should be genetically correct that all girls fear snakes.

We once lived next door to an older couple who adopted our three kids as their grandkids.  Now that was really nice, at least it was at times.  There were those times when Jeff gave them ideas that were less than favorable to their parents.  But the snake and Sarah were all Wilma's idea.  Unbelievable as that might seem, it was all Wilma's idea, and she enjoyed the outcome of her idea a lot more than I did for sure.  She found the snake, gave it to Sarah, and said, "Go show this to your mom."

One fine summer day, the three kids were next door at Jeff and Wilma's.  I made use of the free time, and was sitting in the bathroom taking care of business, when in walked Sarah.  And with Sarah, came a snake.  A SNAKE!  A snake in her hands, and there I am on the pot.

Where to go!  What to do!  How will I get past the snake without touching it?  How will I manage to exit the bathroom without killing Sarah, without touching the snake, and leaving all the walls and doors intact?  All of these thoughts are running frantically through my mind, while my mouth is open, and I'm screaming a blood curdling scream.  Plus, it's kind of hard to run with clothes around your ankles.

Sarah has realized this might not be a good idea to bring a snake to mom after all, especially in such a confined space.  In reaction to my reaction, she feels compelled to tell me that it's just a plastic snake.  To stress the point, she is waving it at me, and saying...it's plastic...it's plastic.  Well guess what, the snake might be plastic, but I'm already spastic.

Once I realize the snake is plastic, and my brain manages to calm down my spastic body, I recover my ability to speak without screaming, I tell her to take the snake and herself out of the bathroom.  Wilma is in her yard laughing hysterically, because she heard me screaming even with all the house around me.

Sarah and I both survived, the plastic snake went into the garbage, and I tried to laugh about it all.  The rules are still the same.  NO SNAKES ALLOWED, of any kind!