Pat a python

Danger Dad has taken the kids to pat a phython. In totally living up to his name's sake, they are off for a second visit to the snake handler to get their hands on this snake, with Josephine in tow.  

 Today  Im outnumbered in an argument about getting a pet snake but Im not giving up.  I dont want to look after Percy the python or Casey the carpet or Abby the anaconda or whatever the heck they are looking at.

My kids cried for a dog.

Mum we gotta have a dooooggggg.  All our friends have a dog. You are a bad Mum.   Only a dog could make me happy.

They promised me they would feed and water and toilet the puppy.

The dog is now my total responsibility.   Luckily I bought the breed I wanted because I had foreseen this situation.  

The kids dog = my new dog.

This brings me to my next conclusion.

The equations looks like this -

The kids new snake = my new snake = find yourself a new wife/mother.

Over my dead body.   I do not want to have a snake in my house! (Inside fish tank or not!) I could out run Hussein Bolt in the 100m sprint trying to get away from a snake.  I dont want mice breeding to feed this snake.   I absolutely dont want to wake up to find a python loving on my ankle, or leg or neck.   I dont want to discriminate against snakes but well, I dont like them!

Thankyou this meeting is adjourned.

**

NB.   Slightly high BGL at lunch so we gave Reuben chicken and cheese.  The hurricane is busy doing laps of the house, hes been left home from snake expedition (see above). Im off to the gym to re-centre myself :)