Many Thankssssssss

So...you may be wondering how and why I have so many “ssssss” on my “thanks”.

Or you may be just as quick-witted and clever as I and have discerned that is may have to do with something that makes the “ssssssss” sound.

OK, I don’t have time for you to sit and ruminate on it…I will just come right out and tell you b/c the hour is getting late (I mean, sure I’ll be up at 2:30, but I have yet to put proverbial pen to  paper at that hour and do not intend to begin now)…

I am, in fact, thanking a snake.

I hate snakes.

H.A.T.E.

I get this so completely and totally that I cannot even explain:

And SPOILER ALERT (in case you thought Harrison Ford was just that brave...I'm here to break the news to you, after lo these many years, b/c we all know that this movie is somewhat “aged”): even though there is a piece of glass between him and that cobra at the end of the clip (that's the spoiler, in case you were confused), the scene still creeps me out.

 I can't express to you my level of dislike for snakes.

And yet...I must, at for this brief moment, thank one for perfectly punctuating my point.

(I love good alliteration, don't you?  I'm totally implying that this was good, lest you be concerned. Or wondering. Or frankly confused. I do not promise that this post will be either succinct or linear. Continue at your own discretion.)

I must seemingly-digress for a moment…stick with me. I will bring it around as usual.

I have always been a strong proponent of wearing shoes outside.

Not so much for myself, but for the PBA.

Definitely a "Do as I say, not as I do" sort of thing, as I will dart out on the deck or to the mailbox unshod (that means without shoes…I dare you to work that into your next conversation).

The same "Do as I say, not as I do" goes for bike helmets...currently a hot button issue in our abode, but I shall get off my soapbox about that just now.

So...I used to ride my boys about wearing shoes when they went out to play. It got to the point where I didn't have to remind them...they just did it.

Not out of respect, as one might hope, but out of habit more than anything else.

This summer, however, my 13yo has been testing the limits a bit.

Those of you who have weathered teen-hood…or are at least further along the journey…are undoubtedly shocked.

And because he is 13, I let him. I know my man-child is going to push and stretch and test…and just generally irritate. All in the name of “maturity.”

So b/c he is 13 and (maybe) I wasn't as attentive over the summer, he may have developed a penchant for being unshod (oh yeah, I used that word again…just trying to make it past your short-term memory).

You may be thinking this makes me lazy but I assure you that I am not; in fact, my soapbox quote this week to the PBA was "I'll let you be lots of things but lazy isn't one of them!"

So today, b/c he's grounded from electronics (details withheld), my 13yo actually went outside to play. A couple minutes later, I was playing with The Little Man and saw my eldest child scurry rapidly across the deck and bolt through the back door.

Me: You ok?

13yo: Um yeah...I'm going to put my shoes on before I go out.

Me: Oh...well why didn't you have them on already?

He tee'd it up for me so I just HAD to ask. You moms understand. And no, I can't let a sleeping dog or baby lie either...actually I'm good with letting a sleeping baby lie unless he's got some wicked ugly torticollis and he's asleep in his swing or car seat and his neck is all cattawampus...and in case you didn’t know, when you attempt to reposition a torticollis-ridden (that's not really a term...he's not "ridden" with it...I jsut could not think of the word I wanted to use, and I'm pretty certain you know what I mean...) baby, he will wake him up...and I can't leave it alone.

But I digress.

Insert eye roll by the 13yo...but not the usual dramatic one; one marked with…how do you say? Terror...that's the word.

Marked with terror.

13yo: Well I was going to play tether ball and when I stepped off the deck I saw something shiny out of the corner of my eye. It was a snake! And I almost stepped on it with my bare foot!!!

Me: What kind of snake?

I asked but thought he wouldn't know b/c no way would I have stuck around long enough to find out...and let’s call a spade a spade: even if I DID stick around long enough to look at it, I don’t know enough about snakes to remotely begin to identify one.

13yo: Just a garter...

He said this very casually…apparently his heartrate was below 200bpm by now.

As an aside and this may be something that you, my adoring fans, may or may not know: a "garter snake" isn't a type of snake ...it's a name belonging to a class of harmless, non-venomous snakes. They can range in size, color etc.

I know you wanted to know that. I'm full service, remember?

You're welcome.

So I acted casual right back. Like it’s no big deal that my son almost stepped on a snake.

And that it may or may not have been harmless.

And it still could have bitten him and it would have (possibly) hurt.

And I would have been uber-panicked.

And calling poison control (even though everyone knows that poison and venom are not the same thing...you can drink venom and it won't kill you...it has to go into the blood stream. I guess if you had an ulcer it would kill you.)

But I digress.

Again.

Don't judge.

So after all my internal panic (I'm certain he had no idea what was going on in my head b/c I'm so calm, cool and collected in an emergency…even when it's a fake one in my head), he said, "Well, I'm never going outside again without my shoes!"

So many thankssssssssssssss, Mr. Snake...whoever and whatever you are. If I ever see you in the yard, I will be sure to give you a personal thanks before I lop off your head with a shovel.

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