Mason’s been hanging out with a friend whose dad has determined to keep him OUTside all summer long.
A couple days ago, Mason asked me, “Would you mind much if I was hanging out with boys who picked up snakes?”
I replied, “Are you and Finn the boys that pick up snakes?”
I told him that I didn’t mind as long as he always remembered that the snakes probably felt a little nervous and he should be sensitive to that.
Fast forward a few days more. I’m in the bathroom. My mind… is on other things.
I wash my hands and open the door, headed to the laundry room where I’ve heard the dryer stop.
And scream. Like a girly girl. A screaming girly girl.
Because Mason has this in his hands:
Turns out he hasn’t just been picking up snakes. He’s been watching them UNDRESS.
And knows them on a first name basis.
The specimen above, for example, was given to him by “Jack.”
Good thing I was headed to the laundry room… cuz I had some “wash” to do…