What About Bob?

Meet Bob. Bob is a baby ball python, about 8-10 weeks old. Bob is not my friend.

My husband has been bugging me for a snake for years. He has had snakes before, especially during his fraternity days at CMU. And he loved them. Thinks they are soooo cool. He then passed that desire on to his namesake.

So the two Steves ganged up on me. I had always told them they could get a snake if it could live in the garage. Well. Ha ha. I'm so smart. No snake can make it through a Michigan winter in an unheated garage. So no snake.

Until this summer during a moment of family drama. While I was concerned and stressed about other things, they struck. I just didn't have it in me anymore to fight the snake fight. So along came Bob. Bob, who lives in my son's bedroom in a tank that better be like Fort Knox or I'm leaving on a jet plane.

My family loves Bob. I do not. They always want me to hold Bob. I will not. The only thing I like to do is watch Bob eat. But he only eats once a week. And it's anticlimactic. The mice are so stupid, they walk right over to him and it's over.

Stephen has actually tried to hold Bob while laying in my bed. If you want to see me freak out and spew a bunch of nasty four letter words hold a snake where I sleep. That is sure to get me fired up. I hope the boy learned his lesson.

Un-welcome to the family Bob. They love you and I'm learning to tolerate you. Sort of.