Ophidiophobiacs: you should not come over anymore. Last weekend, we adopted a ball python named Roswell. My friend Brenda had a baby recently, and felt that a baby and a three-foot python were just too much work together. I am glad she offered us the snake and not the baby, because I am DONE with THAT business. So we welcomed Roswell into our home. Last night we fed him for the first time. It was over quickly, disgusting and fascinating, but not as violent as the time I watched a larger snake eat a rat. Yum. The boys could barely contain their fierce excitement over the amazing spectacle, although I am heartened that they exhibited some pity for the poor mouse.
Roswell likes my neck, because it's warm. He hugs me quite firmly. He is beeeeyoootiful, dark brown with golden patterns on his sides that look like alien heads (thus the name). Eli loves him entirely too much and the boys want to hold him all the time. He was a very useful homework inducement last night; I wonder how long the magic will last. He pushes the menagerie up to 11 animals now.
Paul and Eli got into the disposable cups I keep for parties. Paul engineered an extremely impressive pyramid, built entirely out of plastic cups. It was so cool I couldn't even get upset with him.
Last week I was folding laundry in my bedroom (shocking, I know). Eli came in, kissed me sweetly on the arm, and in the same tone of voice he uses when he croons "I love you," said "I don't want to see you dead." Smiling all the while. I decided to take it as a compliment.
Eli and I were driving in the car. He was having a fit because he wanted me to make a u-turn and go back to Del Taco, which I had no intention of doing. I pointed out that the sign at the signal said "NO U TURN" and told him I didn't want the police to write me a ticket. He grumbled, "The police wouldn't know." The difference between Eli and Paul in a nutshell - Paul would NEVER encourage or even want me to break the law. Eli doesn't give a fig.