30 Days and 30 Nights

No, not since I last updated this blog with any meaningful content.

That's the time that elapsed between when I realized Molly's hermit crab LuLu was dead and when she finally noticed.

In my defense, I discovered the dead crab the night before the first day of school. Not the best timing for weeping and gnashing of teeth. Remember the new school? The huge class size? The weeping blogger Mom in the cafeteria? The switch from plaid uniforms to go-go boots? The riding the bus for the first time? Yeah.

And it wasn't just Molly's reaction I was worried about. Jake hasn't turned on his ceiling fan in over a year, even though his room is down the hall from the crabs, because he read once that hermit crabs need a warm environment to survive. We've assured him that under no circumstances will his fan kill the crabs, but he's not buying it.

So, yeah, I tucked LuLu's leggy little self back into the shell, clamped my mouth shut really fast, and prayed the kids wouldn't notice her demise for a day or two. I had the utter pigsty of Molly's room going for me on this one.

The good news? The dead crab wasn't Smiley (the beloved crab we almost buried alive over a year ago ) and who appears to thrive on benign neglect. LuLu, the newer (and now departed) crab, apparently needed things like food, water, and attention. Diva.

Best line when Molly finally discovered LuLu's shriveled up body: "Mom, I think LuLu's dead. But it's okay, I didn't have that much time to get to know her anyway."

Yeah, like 30 days and 30 nights?

A Little Crabby

On our recent beach trip Molly bought a hermit crab. We alternate between calling him "Hermie" and her "Smiley." Name and gender have not stuck yet. Anyway, on Friday I had a busy day with a church conference. I noticed his/her cage smelled pretty bad and mentioned it to the kids. They suggested I clean it.

This annoyed me because it is NOT my hermit crab. I decided I would have Molly clean it later that day. Well, the day went by pretty quickly. When Tom came home from a business trip at 11 pm, he said, “What’s that smell?” Uh-oh.

We checked on Hermie/Smiley and found him/her shriveled up inside the shell. This was not good. I started to cry, thinking of breaking the news to my little girl. We live in the house of blame, and I knew I’d probably get nailed for this one.

Looking for reassurance, I said to Tom, “I don’t know how this could have happened! I gave it water, I spritzed its sponge, I fed it this morning.” His response, “Well, it does sound like you were the one in charge.” How supportive. I huffily put on my eyeshades and went to sleep.

The next morning I heard Molly coming down the stairs. After a few weeks of benign neglect, THIS was the morning she decided to call out, “Where’s Smiley?” Uh-oh. I bolted out of bed to tell her about his/her untimely death.

You may be wondering if I felt tempted to run out and buy a replacement crab. I know this is a rather common practice; however, after replacing and killing 4 guppies in the space of one day, and getting caught in the act by my smart little kids, I’ve decided the direct approach is best.

Soooo, I sat Molly down and told her Hermie/Smiley was dead. She didn’t blame me. We held each other and cried. We reminisced about the good times of the past 3 weeks. The hermit crab maze Jake made for it, the neighborhood walks-- I think that about covered it. Wiping her tears, Molly said, “Can I see him?”

I was glad Tom hadn’t jumped the gun and thrown him/her away the night before. I am big on closure. I just hoped he/she didn’t look too pathetic or smell too nasty.

From downstairs I heard, “HE’S ALIVE!” and indeed, Hermie/Smiley lives! I cannot explain it, but I am even more grateful Tom didn’t bury him/her alive. I wonder what bigger purpose is in store for this lowly crab, for surely he/she has an important destiny to fulfill. Right now I can hear him/her dancing a tango in the kitchen and I must say, “He/She is risen! Risen indeed.”