Worms. I like them. Outside. I do not like them on my kitchen table. I do not like them on my salad plate. I do not like finding them on the couch or in my drawers in all sorts of random cups and containers. The problem is, Neelsie does.
At first I excitedly encouraged his worm interest – the Cool-Tomboy-Mom image appealed to me. Then I happened to step with my bare feet on one particularly gooey thingy. Yuckgghh. I just knew that it was part of an earthy friend. But it turned out to be only a piece of a blackened banana. Yet after that unfortunate mushy incident, it did not take me long to move to forced worm-tolerance. My forbearance evaporated when an earthworm was left in a Tupperware filled with water – left to be “washed” – but it stayed there until doubled in size from soaking up water and then… POP! It was not a little gross – to me. Neels declared: “But my worm likes to be in water!” I (not so sympathetically) explained that there was no more worm, just soaked worm remains, at which he lovingly picked it up, said: “Come little worm”, and laid Little Worm on my countertop. Right there I lost all Tomboy-Mom ambitions and stated it to be illegal to bring any slimy pet into my house.
Well, the law was not extensive enough and apparently lacked fine print, for now I find dried worms (“100% natuurlike” droëwors) in random spots. Or are they some of the worms that made it inside before the law was put into effect and I am just now finding them? Makes me wonder what else I can expect to stumble on in days to come. :-/