Clairvoyant

We have a new addition to the family.

Not a baby, geez, I'm crazy, but I'm not crazy.

Ryan has been asking for a hermit crab, and Santa brought him one for Christmas.

Santa was clever enough to wrap the little habitat and enclose a gift card to PetsMart inside so Ryan could go pick out his own crabby buddy, thus eliminating the need to hide said habitat someplace else, or the prospect of a dead crab Christmas morning.  (there's a joke in there, I know it...)

Anyway.

This evening, Mr W took Ryan to pick out his little friend.  They brought him home, and I heard all about how all the big crabs were dead (see?) and there were "only two baby crabs left." 

I raised an eyebrow at Mr W, who held up only one finger.   Whew. 

You'd think a girl who can stomach spiders and kill scorpions could handle a little hermit crab, but um, no.  It's nothing but love for my boy that is making me even consider this endeavor, and holding this crab is out of the question. 

I thought of melting a little butter to welcome him home, but I didn't want to make Ryan cry, so I tapped Mr Crab into his habitat gently instead and put the lid on asap.  (Those little suckers, I hear they jump and go right for your eyes.)

Ryan named him 'Electric Boy' or something to that effect.  Mr W dubbed him  'Krabby Patty' and I like that better, but according to Ryan, that is his nickname only. 

We had some cake, for Nolan, later, and Jane was over.  I said to her, "It's only a matter of time, you know, before I have twenty of these little critters in the house."  ?? She made some comment to the crab's reproductive abilities, and I said "No, not that...but because I'm gonna hear, 'Mommy, he needs a friend...' and we'll need to get another."

I'm getting Audrey to bed, and she's chatting about the crab.  She is enchanted by him.

"I want one."  Uh-oh.  "Go to sleep, honey."

And then, not 4 hours have passed, when Ryan pipes up.  "You know, Mommy, there were only two crabs left at PetsMart.  There is still another one there, and it needs a home."

This has to be a record of some kind.  I'm clairvoyant.  I should play the lottery tonight, or something.

"Maybe we can go buy the other one tomorrow, and bring him home.  They can live together in this little cage, and be friends."

Here it comes:

"He's very, very lonely, in there, I think."

Well, we can't have that.  No one should be lonely in the cold, hard,  post-Christmas dawns.

I think PetsMart opens at 9.