Another grey hair

Anyone who knows me at all or reads my blog very often will understand that I loathe snakes of any kind.  Real ones, plastic ones, stuffed ones; it doesn’t matter.  Pictures of snakes, branches that are shaped similar to snakes and even the dead vines in my fence that resemble snakes, all receive mutual disdain.

You can suggest it is a phobia or an irrational fear, you can say I’m being ridiculous, call it what you like, but you won’t change the fact that I abhor snakes.  My husband made the mistake shortly after we were married of thinking it might be cute to bring one in the house to “show me”.  He quickly learned, in the best interest of our marriage, not to ever try such a thing again.

I don’t live in the best area for snake hate, since I have probably seen four outside in the past 3 months.  My husband rarely sees them and sometimes I wonder if they just come out when I’m around to torment me.  He always insists that the ones I describe (and send him photos of) are not harmful and will keep the bad ones away.  He can’t seem to understand that it doesn’t matter if they are venomous or not; if I ever step on one, one crosses my path, or touches me in any way, I will likely die anyway.

My mother was the same way and so is my eldest, so I am sure our critics would say my mom passed down her irrational fears to me, and I did the same to my daughter.  My granddaughter is well aware of this, so she likes to tell her mom she is a slithering snake and slither across the floor and hiss.  She is a little stinker.

She was in the living room playing earlier with my husband and she came into another room where I was reading and said, “Nana, can I have a hug?”  I said, “Of course you can honey” and put my book down and made room for her on my lap.  She is a little snuggle bug so she does this often and any grandparent will tell you that those hugs are a precious gift.  Little hands patting my back and those bouncy curls grazing my face; ahh, one of the best feelings in the world!!  She got up into my lap and out of the corner of my eye she snatched something from behind her back and said “SSSSSSSSS!!!” Dangling from her hand was a snake made from the silly putty that I had bought her, crafted into an instrument of torture.  When I yelped, she threw back her head and giggled and I grabbed her little snake and squashed it.  She found that to be even funnier.  After a tickling session, I sent her back in there with her papa to make something sensible.

Tonight as I was covering the grey in my hair, I remembered that I have heard quotes about our grandchildren keeping us young, but some of their antics can also age you prematurely.  But, oh they so are worth it!