Snakes for Daddy

When I picked the girls up from daycare today, Mary informed me that she had snakes in her pocket for Daddy. Two problems with that, Internet. 1) There was something alive in her pocket, 2) Daddy isn't coming home until tomorrow. I realize that these things happen, but I thought it was boys that picked up nature and dragged it about with them, not girls. I don't mean to pigeonhole, but really, who would have thought? So I peeked in her little coat pocket and saw a pile of wet worms squiggling around. Hm. Worms. "Those are the snakes for Daddy", she said again. Hm. I'm still not sure at this point what I want to do with worms. Well, I said, those snakes won't live in your pocket until Daddy comes home. Mary persevered. Let's let them go back with their Mommy and Daddy, I suggested. No, she said, the Daddy snake is right here - then she pointed to the largest -by far - worm in the pile. His name is Daddy Snakey and he is with his little baby snakes. (I think later his name became something pronounceable only in Vulcan, but I failed to write it down phonetically and can't remember it now). So we argued all the way home (an amazing 4 minutes) about how to get the poor worms out of Mary's pocket (now smashed under her lap belt) and into the ground. She finally agreed that I could take a picture of them and send the picture to Daddy. Another half an hour discussion ensued after that agreement (negotiation talks are always Hell) about letting the worms go. We finally figured it out and I have a picture that I will upload tomorrow. Right now I'm off to bed.