Yes, you are looking at a box of hermit crabs. I know, folks. I lost a bet with Murphy and rather than expatriate to Canada or the Bahamas this week (which was the bet) I agreed to add to the hermit crab tribe to save his life because the ferocity with which he was arguing with me could only be explained by tween-fueled hormonal energy and he was not shutting up, and I was going to commit hari kari on Route 30 in front of Good Sam. Of course, he went for the craziest and most aggressive loony crabs at the Petco in Paoli. Because why wouldn’t he? And of course he tried to show me how they were trying to escape while I was driving, and I almost killed me, him, the crabs and a pickup truck with a black lab in the back. I would’ve felt bad about the
In our next episode of “As the Hermit Crab World Turns”… Murph (urgent): Mom! Come here! Fries is having sex with a strawberry! Me (so much nope): What? No. How? That’s not even possible. Murph (really insistent): Seriously, Mom. He dragged the biggest piece into his hut, and now he’s sitting on it, singing really loud. Me (tired): That’s not sex. That’s just weird. Obviously, he’s emotionally disturbed. Murph (indignant): Oh, no. It’s sex. I know sex when I see it. You have to see his antennas moving and hear him. He’s going for it. With fruit. Me (flummoxed):… Murph (annoyed): You need to get the webcam working right away. Freaky people would pay to watch crab porn, and I need a college fund. Me (incredulous): How do you even know these things? Murph: I TOLD YOU NOT TO MAKE ME DO THAT FAMILY LIFE UNIT!!!
A hair cut matters. We (meaning most women and some men) know that a good hair cut can, quite literally, change your world. And so can a bad one. And knowing this, I’ve been letting 10.25 do what he wanted with his hair for some time now. It’s been getting longer, and then it was blue, and then it was purple. I saw the looks, and I heard people telling me that I was awesome for letting him do him. But I wondered, you know? We live in a relatively conservative area. This is the Main Line, not urban hipster central. He didn’t look the part, and kids can be tough when you work to look different. So I was surprised when he told me he wanted to cut it. But I said okay and told him to figure out how. And we spent a couple of weeks and narrowed
We’ve all knows that our hermit crab, Fries, is a little “off.” Cheeseburger seems perfectly hermit crab (ish). But Fries? And now Fries has removed all doubts about his personality. In a rare, non-Adderall fueled moment of craftiness, I moved the crabs from the bedroom/office to the living room and upgraded them from their 5-gallon tank to a 25-gallon one. I contemplated creating things for them out of the hundred million thousand random Lego pieces we have, then I thought about doing a whole Batman theme out of Imaginext that’s sitting collecting dust, but in the end, I picked through the remains of the various Playmobil sets that are on the spawn’s floor. And I decorated. I even put little people in there. There are the surfer and a couple of pirates, and there was a man, pushing a wheelbarrow. We moved the crabs into the new crabitat last night,
School Band? Really? Seriously? He’s either going to be the leader of the free world or the leader of a prison gang. Not sure which… 10.25 (jumping up and down): I have to be at school at 7:30 tomorrow for band practice. Me (baffled): You’re in a band? 10.25 (insulted): The 4th Grade SCHOOL band. I have a solo in the concert, too. Mrs. Nation picked me. Me (frightened, wondering if Mrs. Nation is drinking on the job): You have a solo doing what? Has she forgotten last year? 10.25 (twirling): I’m playing the xylophone. Or bells. That big metal thing. I call it my glock because I’m awesome. Me (perplexed): Where is it? WHEN is it? Don’t you have to practice? Can you play one? 10.25 (righteously indignant): I don’t feel like dragging it back and forth to school so I leave it there. I don’t need to practice.
The weird hermit crabs started making noises started again, so, like a fool who never learns, I went to investigate. I picked up Fries, who’s in a fancy new glow in the dark shell, and at first, he was all, “Hi,” but then he leapt out his freaking shell and tried to KILL me. Literally jumped out of the damned shell onto my arm with his little hermit crab legs scrambling all over and his claw out. Look at the death in those beady little eyes. Nice going, spawn. He’s REALLY not afraid of people anymore. Who needed hermit crabs that are hand-tamed? Now he’s swimming in salt water and chirping his victory song. Psychocrab. And Cheeseburger appears to be buried now, and we all know how that went a month ago when Fries did it.
Absent Note #36: He’s never coming back to school. He rose long enough to say he feels like shit, it’s back like it was Monday, and he will surely die today. So far, his promises of impending death, much like the ones to clean his room, are worthless. The pediatrician is still not interested in seeing him and is now explaining the flu to me in very small baby words. Is this some reality show version of Groundhog Day, with a cash prize at the end? He finally showered when I pulled the plug on the Xbox and threw it out the front door last night. I was hoping he would run after it so I could lock it behind him, but instead he looked at me like I was a crazy person. It’s starting to feel like summer vacation, but without the warm weather and frozen adult beverages. You’re going
Absent note #35: He’s not dead but swears he’s close. Excuse him, don’t excuse him, I don’t care, nothing matters anymore. He claims everything hurts and that he will die sooner if he has to any math. No longer sure that ending everyone’s suffering now would be a bad thing. The pediatrician won’t see him because “he’s sick, and we don’t want sick people in the office.” The cats are desperately trying to bathe him because he hasn’t showered since last week, and he’s wearing the same clothes he put on Saturday morning and all of our eyes, except his, are bleeding from the stench. Please send the Hostage Rescue Team along with truant officers and plan to set up one of those decontamination showers outside before you bring him to school so he can be deloused. Also, still waiting for the Starbuck’s.
Absent Note #34: Please excuse the spawn for being absent today. Or don’t. Whatever. He’s sick; he swears death is imminent. Dictated his will to Cortana, said goodbye to Cheeseburger and Fries, and picked an outfit in which to be buried. Literally, NO ONE could want him at school right now more than I do. If you send truant officers, I advise BioHazard Gear and tazers. Also, could they bring me a Starbuck’s Valentine drink? It’s all I was hoping for this year, and it’s not even looking good for THAT now. Thoughts and prayers and crap for our continued coexistence appreciated.