 |
| Taken on one of those rare days I did her hair. And before she undid it all. |
Today Coriel acquired a pet worm. I meant to post a picture of it here, but that would have required forethought, so I shall instead post a picture of her. Which is probably better anyway.
Coriel’s worm does not have a name yet, as far as I know, but it has been given some water and dirt, given a nice home to live in (formerly a water pitcher), and taken on a walk or two. Also, I have let her know that her worm is strictly an outdoor pet.
We discovered her pet worm when I was edging our sidewalk this morning. Did you have any idea how many worms are in the dirt under your lawn? I didn’t, but I now estimate it as at least one per square inch. I unearthed exactly one gazillion of them. Believe me, I counted. (This doesn’t make sense mathematically, since I only edged about 100 inches, but if you involve some parallel universes and time warps, it all works out.) Most of the worms I unearthed quickly squirmed their way back into the dirt. The worms that stayed out for very long got kindly relocated. Coriel wanted to make sure that they were safe and sound in the dirt. There was only one that somehow captured her attention enough to be made into a pet.
Can I help it if I am secretly hoping that her worm satiates her current hunger for pet ownership? She is frequently asking for one, and every time she does, I have this little parental itch.* Am I a bad parent because I won’t give my daughter a pet? I mean, yes, I’m allergic to cats, dogs, feathers, who knows what else. Yes, I have no desire to be attached for months, years, decades to any animal at all. Yes, I can barely maintain, feed, and clean my own pets children. But doesn’t every happy, nostalgic childhood memoir involve a pet? How will my children write their memoirs without a pet?
And then today I had an epiphany. Do you know what a happy childhood needs more than it needs a pet? A sane parent. And in our household, it’s one or the other, baby.
So yes, tomorrow we will go outside and check on Mr. Worm. Coriel will probably come up with a name that is significantly more creative than my suggestion. Something like Lum.** He might last a day or two, if we are lucky, before his pitcher gets tipped over or he dies. (Does anyone here actually know the life expectancy of a worm? Is it more like a mayfly or a turtle? Because seriously, I am not taking care of a worm until my 93rd birthday.) And then we will find another pet. I’m hoping for something a little bit lower maintenance next time.
Maybe a rock.
*(Don’t worry, it’s small itch, and I ignore it.)
**We once cut out some paper aardvarks, a mom and a baby. They were both named Lum.
I am so not a pet person! My pet memories truly consist of a smelly hamster who bit my finger after I put him on the piano. We rolled him down the stairs in one of those ball things. He ate through his cage. We found him dead after church one day. Another pet were at least 3 dogs who never got played with. And cats who were named CB and CD (coyote bait and coyote dinner) because that's just what happens to cats in my home town. I think the idea of childhood pets is much grander than the reality, especially if the mom is not a pet person.
ReplyDeleteAll my childhood memories included a pet. Or three. Or sometimes 25 if you count the time my baby chicks lived in a box in my room until they were old enough to be out in the coop.
ReplyDeleteBut you know a worm will probably work. For now.
Looove the hair! And good luck with Lum.. Coriel is just like her mama! Love you both!
ReplyDeleteMy childhood memories of pets? A BIG dog laying on my head blocking my view of the tv. Cats bringing disgusting dead mice to our back door. Or dogs throwing up because they're eating grasshoppers. A pregnant cat running away to escape the tomcat, and getting run over, dead run over. Goldfish dying. Pleasant memories? I think not. You're safer with a rock. :-)
ReplyDelete