Last week my mom introduced the idea of "bugs as pets" to the pet-starved Chaos Girls in a round about way. First let me say that it has been a long and cold winter in Utah, and we haven't seen many houseflies in these parts for some time.
New Mexico has plenty, and one chubby and somewhat sluggish spring fly was caroming about my folks front room. It was freaking the girls out... especially LaLa. Last year one of the first words out of the girls mouth was actually a phrase...
"Mack lack liiiiiiiie!"
translation: Smack that fly!
It's an uneasy combination of horror and a juicy, almost joyous squeamishness that she has in regards to flying bugs. It's fun to scream and run from bugs, but the horror part was taking a front seat ride this time out. The child has a scream that removes paint and I think my mom was done with listening to the shrieking so she told the girls not to worry... it was a TAME fly. She told them it was her pet fly. I pretty sure that Birdie knew she was joking... but she also liked the idea of having a pet that I cannot realistically put the ki-bosh to. She craves a pet. She still talks with longing about the three short days we had three fish. Dead, deader and deadest.
The day after we got home the girls found a "snail" in the backyard. For some reason the distinction of an actual snail shell is no distinction at all for them. They thought he was SO CUTE! They pleaded to keep it as a pet. I figured that it was either sacrifice a Kerr jar for a couple of days or smash the wee bugger right in front of the Chaos then and there. Either way he's out of my garden, but I opted for the kinder and gentler Kerr jar with a couple of leaves and voila... a pet. A slug that they poetically named Butterfly.
O, the girly raptures over this nasty stretch of movable slime.... Bleah!
I was washing dishes yesterday and had this conversation with LaLa.
LaLa: Mama, I lub da thnay-yo!
Me: Honey it's a slug, it doesn't have a shell so it's a slug.(this for the four thrillionth time)
LaLa: A tluggy?
LaLa: I lub you Mith-toe Tluggy! (intoned to the denizen of Kerr jar which she has clutched to her chest) He mah pavo-wit tuh-low.
Me: Slug color?
LaLa: Uh huh, tluggy tuh-low.
Awwwww, how sweet! But you know that you just can't cage some wild animals... they kinda pine away. At least I THINK that's what happened to the dessicated smoodge of slime that Dadguy found at the bottom of the jar last night.