Last year my two little boys (ages  five and six) were helping Daddy clean out the shed. I was so proud to see them working hard carrying loads of old toys and scraps to the trash. Dad is always so good about combining quality time with work ethic and I couldn’t help but smile as I looked out of the kitchen window. It was a lovely Saturday afternoon and unusually peaceful in the house, since the children were preoccupied. Yes peace. Something very rare in a home of high spirited, competitive young boys. As I was humming along with Nora Jones, with lit candles, my newfound peace was suddenly disrupted by the sound of the kids barreling through the doors.
“Mom!!! We found some snakes! Like two thousand hundred of them! You have to come see! They are soooo cool!” 
Their precious little cotton top heads were about to pop off from excitement. As a woman, I hate snakes. My person does not care if it is a large deadly boa constrictor or a six inch garter. A snake is a snake is a snake. Just as quickly as the boys rushed in, they were back out in the yard closely investigating the situation. I knocked on the window to get dad’s attention just to notice that he seemed to be putting together a cage. A cage? Was he seriously considering putting snakes in that cage preparing to bring them into this house?
I rushed outside and yelled, “Hey! What’s going on out here!” Dad replied… “Babe! You’ve got to see this. There’s a huge village of garters out here! I thought the boys would like to catch a couple of them. I found a couple of little bitty babies. They are actually pretty darn cute!”
Cute? A cage? Snakes in my house? “Noooo way!! I replied, sternly.
“Come on honey, they are boys. Boy’s like snakes. Besides they are completely harmless and they can’t get out of the cage.”
Apparently this wonderful man had lost his mind and did not know me or his own children as well as I thought. Did he really think that our kids wouldn’t leave the top of the cage? As we often do as mothers, I surrendered to my kid’s wishes. The cage, housing two snakes named Snakie and Sneekie was now in the boy’s room along with one turtle, six fish, three gerbils and a large guinea pig.
One week later… I came home from work and headed for a nice hot shower. I tossed my clothes on the bed and started for the bathroom, when right there, in the middle of the hallway laid… a snake. Trembling like a wimp, I raced, naked into the bathroom and leapt in the tub, trembling as if there was a burglar chasing me with a gun. My phone was in the kitchen so I had no choice but to make a run for it. Naked as a jay bird, I darted through the kitchen grabbing the phone and dive bombed back into the tub.
He came home immediately and began looking for Snakie the snake. I heard shu-ing and the sound of furniture moving about. Yes! He found him. I was relieved—until it occurred to me… “Is the other snake in the cage?” “No,” he replied. His tone indicated that he felt just terrible and was certain an “I told you so” was around the corner, of which he was correct.
The next four months were perfectly miserable for me. Everywhere I walked, I envisioned Sneekie rolled up in my boots, nestled at the end of my blanket or lounging in my makeup bag. I suppose when my boys are too old to cuddle I will look back and laugh about these times. And that is probably when Sneekie the snake will show up as a six foot monstrosity in my bathtub. Even Calgon can’t fix that one…

Posted on 2014-08-01 by Buffy Lawson