But yes, I do slaughter baby snails with my gloved hands. You read that right.
So imagine, if you will, my joy, my unfettered delight, when my children, eyes alight with excitement come tearing inside yesterday waving a tupperware container.
"We caught a snail."
"Its our new pet."
"We love it."
"How can you tell if snails are boys or girls?"
I rolled my eyes and promptly forgot about it until this morning, at around 6.30am when there were cries of horror from the playroom.
The snail had escaped.
Not a moment could be lost, Mummy AND Daddy must immediately IMMEDIATELY commence a search and rescue mission.
What if the dog had eaten it??
(The dog gets sniffy about eating gourmet dog food, so there wasn't much chance).
|You interrupted my nap to ask if I ate a what?? |
And get that camera out of my face, my ears are all messy
After being christened The Slime, our snail was then re-incarcerated in its container, this time with a lid and a few leaves for company.
|The newest family member|
Or maybe The Slime will escape again tonight from its sealed container and find itself having a new life in the garden of that neighbour with the wretched endlessly yapping Pomeranian.
Updated to add: My husband read this post and said, "What about the slug?"
"Yes there was a slug in there. It escaped too."
"But you found it?"