It was turnip green pickin’ weather—only I don’t remember the weather. I just remember turnip greens in trash bags being soaked in large, galvanized tubs being prepped for cooking, bagging, and freezing. I liked placing my hands in the water among the leaves and feeling the prickles and ruffles. In between doing so, I would play on the back porch of my babysitters’ house while they worked diligently in their “mess” of greens.
Spoiled relentlessly, I would only ride my tricycle in the comforts of their covered back porch. Good grief, who would want to get hot in the scorching sun? Not me. My mind was overflowing with my imagination. I would park my trike to vegetable shop among the flurry of “green” production in their attached workshop. The store owners (a.k.a. my babysitters) would eventually grow tired of me playing in the soaking greens and run me out. I would ride on to the other end of the porch.
On this day, a worm caught my eye. It was short, stubby and spotted—like a black and white cow. At least, that is what I remember. I parked my trike to get a closer look at the intruder who was invading my shaded space.
I moved closer…
Closer…
And…
That worm stuck its tongue out at me.
I was appalled. The audacity! Forgetting my trike, I stomped to the workshop and yelled in at Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.
“There is a strange worm out here!” I yelled only to be greeted with “Go play; we are busy.”
“The worm is being rude to me!” I yelled again. I knew I was tattling on the worm, but he was being rude. I wouldn’t stand for it. Again, I was told to go play.
I stomped my foot. “He is sticking his tongue out at me.” Both froze and turned slowly. Mrs. Morgan said, “Kermit, perhaps you should check on this rude worm.” He did. And, the worm got the beating it deserved. After the beating, I learning this rude worm was a snake. Thus, my fear of snakes began.
Bugs? No problem. I will catch or kill them for you. Whichever.
Spiders? No big deal. I will kill them without flinching.
Snakes? I will scream like a diva while making convulsing sounds and either freeze like a statue or do a ridiculous dance trying to scare it away. I don’t even go into reptile houses at the zoo for fear of an earthquake. I mean I could get trapped with those things. In the aquarium, I close my eyes and walk quickly through the areas infested with them. And, believe me, I know the areas. I have closely studied the aquarium’s website and directory. I don’t watch Animal Planet. I use to have the channel blocked when I lived at home.
So, we flash forward 27 years. I am now a mother of a rambunctious boy who, of course, loves snakes. He is fascinated with their colors, movements, and texture. I get chills just thinking about it.
On Friday, his teacher sent me a text telling me his class was about to be visited by a 4ft python. I almost dropped my phone. She proceeded to send me pictures. He posed for the camera with it draped around his shoulders and nestled peacefully in his lap. I kept thinking of that little 4 inch snake that petrified me as a child, scarring me for life. Now, Caden was making a 4ft friend. The thought was almost too much to bear. I shivered at my desk, but I had to look. That’s what a mom does, right?
At home, Caden parades around the house with two massive, stuffed snakes draped around him. He likes to throw them at me. At first, I would scream and tell him to stop. He would stare at me with a look that said, “Mom, get a grip. They are stuffed.” Now, I just ignore the flying snakes. He is right; they are stuffed.
I have grown in my ability to deal with Caden and his passion for reptiles. To deal with Caden’s passion and God’s sense of humor, I have developed a set of rules:
- I will look at Caden’s pictures where he is holding a reptile, but I will tell myself the reptile is fake or a figment of my imagination.
- I reserve the right not to hug or kiss my child after he has touched a reptile. I love him, but I have limits.
- If we go solo to the zoo or the aquarium, we must skip the reptile house or snake areas. He is only allowed to visit the reptile house or snake areas when we go with someone who can physically and emotionally survive the tour without looking like a complete moron.
- Cartoons with snakes are allowed—except the snake in the Penguins of Madagascar cartoons. He is sneaky and can’t be trusted. I don’t like him.
- Stuffed snakes are acceptable; however, they must look fake—meaning they continue to be neon and smile.
Now, let’s hope Caden doesn’t find an interest in clowns…