Charlotte

A couple weeks ago our family went camping with our fantabulous neighborhood. This is one of those weekends that the kids literally salivate over. Friends galore, freedom to run, no real bed times, and a country store to buy potato guns, candy, and other miscellaneous crap – while simultaneously depleting their college savings accounts.

This year though we came home with something more than crappy plastic toys and ticks. The youngest found a frog. Actually, I hesitate to call it a frog since I really don’t know what the hell this thing is. It could be a toad. It could be some bizarrely large insect. I’m not a taxidermist, people. (wait, is that the one that stuffs dead animals? yeah, I’m not that either).

Here’s the story …

Guy (who else) found this … animal. By the time he had introduced this animal to us, his barely monitoring super responsible parents, he had not only named her, but had come up with an elaborate life story for her. Yes, her name is Charlotte. I find this comical on many levels … she’s a girl? she’s not a Suzy or a Sally? I’ll be honest, were I to have another kid (my brain just exploded and I crapped my pants a little) and it was a girl, I would totally name her Charlotte. So he had me at that already. Then the story …

Guy: Mom, there were 3 dead frogs right near her! They were her family and friends!! She has NO ONE. I couldn’t leave her there!! Plus her foot was stuck under a rock and we saved her … it was probably from when she was trying to get away from the mass murderer!!! (ok, I added that last part)

Me: (in vacation mode, i.e. “go away while I gossip about Beyonce”) Awwww, that’s so sweet of you to save her, baby cakes. Now, we can’t keep her forever …

(I see the look in his eyes … this kid has already planned out his life with Charlotte … taking her on all family vacations in a mini purse, keeping her in an elaborate castle type cage (moat included) in his room, and his thesis already in the works about why she should be the mascot of his fraternity)

In my haste to get back to my deep philosophical discussions about celebrities, I kind of just let him wander off. With Charlotte. And another 8 year old boy. Look, I’m not saying I’m the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Next thing we know, I’m being told that Charlotte is being kept in a window in our cabin … between the glass pane and the blinds. I’m picturing a full on Rapunzel. After the spastic body convulsion that took a good year off of my life, I tell Guy she has got to go! He does his typical youngest MO crap. Face scrunches, worry about Charlotte reflected in his eyes … I am putty to this shit …

cat

The Hubs, on the other hand is not. I ask him to please figure out a way to contain Charlotte and he looks at me like I’ve officially lost my mind … and that’s saying a lot because I say crazy shit all the time – so much so that’s it’s become normal shit.

With one Lime-a-Rita in, I raise my voice and say that he could whittle a canoe out of the fire wood we have sitting right here, so I’m SURRRRRRRRRE he could find a way to contain this … frog?

I have officially succumb to Guy’s story. Charlotte has NO ONE!!!

*sigh* Even typing this is excruciating. I am an idiot.

Long story short, the Hubs finds a way. And after a few daring attempts to escape her now frightening new life, she ends up going home with us the next day.

How this “thing” is still alive is above and beyond me. The Hubs has bought her crickets (yes, the same man who looked at me with scorn and disgust), so that helps, but she’s stuck in a old plastic spinach container with a cup (??), a wet paper towel, and what little is left of her sanity. I walked in Guy’s room at one point and I kid you not, she had one webbed hand pressed up against the container staring at me. She was begging me with her eyes to free her … at least that’s what I made up in my head. I’ve started having dreams about her as well. Dreams where she escapes and writes a novel about her experiences with a 7 year old boy … and his lunatic mother. Dreams where she’s somehow ended up in my room, crapping on my face while I am sleeping. Dreams where we find the box empty and have no idea where she is until we start to smell something funny.

I have got to get this thing out of my house.

So today we are taking her to a pond behind my dad and stepmother’s house. I have convinced Guy to let her go … that she will have a better life out in the world – blah, blah, blah. I’m leaving out the part where she will probably get eaten by some wild animal in the first 15 minutes she’s released.

But I’m telling you this … I do not have the ability to let Charlotte go if Guy is a sobbing mess. We will end up with Charlotte forever. Perhaps I will buy that mini purse for her and we will live out our days together, shopping at Nordstroms and doing each other’s hair.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

I love leaving this as a cliff hanger!! 🙂

charlotte

Yes, that’s a red solo cup.  Don’t judge.

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