When my pre-school granddaughter turned him over, and poked his belly, she said, “See? He’s got dirt.” He was very muddy on the underside.
She wanted to give him a bath in the sink.
“No, we’re not playing in the water and giving him a bath! Let’s just use wet wipes,” I compromised.
When I went in to check on her progress, Mr. Snake was foaming.
He was laying in a puddle of water and foaming! Liquid soap bubbles were all along his black skin.
She said, “I need to use your hair dryer so he’ll be clean and shiny.”
“We’re not using my hair dryer on a snake! Besides, snakes never shine!” I chimed.
Then she gave in, “I’m gonna put him right here so he can dry.”
Little brother looked from her to me to the snake and took it all in. Rapt!
She leaned down. She leaned carefully. She bent over the edge of my pristine clean white bathtub and laid that black reptile all curled up on himself in there. She stood up, proud & content, “He can dry right here.”
In her eyes, maybe, but really, that snake will never shine!
He was as rubbery as rubber can be.
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