Aselin

Everyone needs to have a life-guiding plan. My son has a sign in his room that says "Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons for you are crunchy and taste good with catsup." I wholeheartedly endorse this philosophy.

This week my hubby, (grrr) approved the idea that our children pool their money to buy a bearded dragon. Normally I don't like bearded anythings. I mean, they're all hairy, and shaggy, and gnarly and ick. Then spending money on a reptilian bearded... ick.

Now don't get me wrong. I love it when the herpetology society brings their boas, gecko's and kimodo dragons to chase the kids around the school yard. Nothing like screaming toddlers as the forked tongues of doom flicker near their little faces. Come on, other people's kids freaking out? I relish the rare occasion that makes mine look like angels. Yay reptiles.

But to bring one home. Set up rocks and heat lamps for the cold-blooded little monsters. Then the fun begins. Feeding. No reptile eats anything a normal person wants to touch. Knowing nothing about dragons, except of course the prerequisite fairy tale dragon primers and a long ago reading of The Hobbit, I was not prepared to undertake this undertaking. (Grrr at hubby again.)

The family comes home from Petsmart with $40,000 worth of dragon supplies. It's the keystone cops of dragon raising. I ask them if we need tools to groom the dragon or if it can share the electric razor with hubby. They, as usual don't think I'm very funny, but I send myself into giggles picturing a little dragon perched on the sink being shaved by my beloved. I think that would only be fair, having to shave an animal because you agreed to allow its purchase. I hope they bite.

Soon the tank is set up, lamps a burning, rocks and fake plants and a hollowed out log... the habitat is prepared. We now await the maturation of the little guy. Every day seems an eternity to the children. Every day that passes dragonless is one more jolt of joy for me.

Finally the day arrives, and "Jimmy" joins the family. Jimmy gets a lot of attention. He needs two daily hydrating spa baths, diced fruit and veggies and of course my favorite - mineral dusted crickets. The deal was this was YOUR pet. I am responsible for keeping four humans, one canine and an orange grove alive. I'm not looking to add to the menagerie.

This morning, amid the wailing and sobbing of an unnamed child, I get coerced into driving to a specialty pet store to purchase specialty crickets. Stepping over the chinchilla and around the rooster I retrieve the 10 dozen crickets for my newly purchased "cricket keeper" I wander over to the store's bearded dragons - I must admit - they are cute. They all look at me, follow what I'm doing - heck, they're more attentive to me than the entire rest of my family combined. I may have to change my dragon soapbox.

Returning home I'm sitting on unnamed child #1's unmade bed trying to figure out how I am going to get 12 - 24 crickets from the keeper to the cage - oh did I forget to mention, they each had to be dusted with mineral powder. Yum.

I open the cage, they're all relatively calm. In what I think is an ingenious move I take a toilet paper tube and coax a couple of crickets into the tube. Then I can empty the tube into the container with mineral powder, shake them around and release them to Jimmy.

Jimmy is extremely interested in what I am doing and has gotten down from his basking rock to stand by woman with crickets. As I'm watching Jimmy try and look cute, I bend to release the two snow white crickets into the cage. One hop and snap, Jimmy got 'em. Jimmy is an outstanding hunter. As I was applauding his little snack I noticed one of the crickets had climbed up high in the keeper. I go to secure the lid and the cricket jumps out. Hmmmm. Conundrum.....

Good mom... would work really hard to find the escaped cricket, return it to the cage and make her daughter's messy bed. Yeah... I know people like that. I know, you know this is not what I did. I spotted the cricket and tried to catch it with my hand. With my clumsy gargantuan efforts I succeeded only in ripping off one of his legs, which I then promptly lost in her bed. I looked and looked and then, true to the kind of mom I really am, just left the limb in there. I will love it when she gets up in the morning after a deep sleep with a cricket leg embedded in her cheek. Puleeeeaze let that happen!

I attempt another dip into the cricket cage. Lifting the tube full of crickets I release the end a little too early and 90% of the crickets made it into the tank. To Jimmy's dismay, three others got out and were living carefree lives of joy behind the bed. Again, conundrum... do I tell the kid there's a plague of pestilence that's taken over her room thanks to mom, or do I say nothing...
For the record I do believe it will be hard to sleep with crickets in your bed. Running over your legs under the covers...getting caught in your hair.
Votes? Anyone?