When Fiddledaddy read my post about the lizard’s untimely death, he came to me and said, “that’s not quite the way it happened.”
If you need a reminder of the original version of the story, go here. Don’t worry, it’s uncharacteristically short. Even for me.
And now, without further adieu, (and hold onto your breakfast), please welcome guest poster, Fiddledaddy.
How the Lizard Really Met It’s Demise
I’m working in the garage and Emme enters, sobbing, “the lizard’s dead, we killed the lizard!” (falls dramatically to knees, head in hands) sob, sob, sob…
“How did this happen?” I inquire.
“He was riding on my scooter with me and fell off and then CAILEY ran over him with HER scooter!”
“Accidentally!” Cailey emphatically injects.
The children also failed to tell you that their new neighbor friend, Emily, was the source of the erroneous information regarding the ability to resuscitate deceased reptiles by soaking them in a bucket of water for 30 minutes “and then they’ll come back to life.”
Vile stench from purple bucket? There’s your trouble.
At one point, Emme came racing into the garage, “Daddy, he opened his mouth! I think he’s breathing!”
Doubtful. It was one last silent scream.
The eyeball fell out later when, having forgotten they had left him in state on their picnic blanket, Cailey’s foot “accidentally came too close to the lizard and then the eye came out.”
I guess if there were a biology lesson to be extracted here, it would be that if at first you fail to kill your new beloved lizard pet by crushing it under the hard rubber tires of your Barbie Scooter, you should go ahead and soak it in a bucket of water for half and hour, which has the added benefit of loosening the connective tissue that holds in the eyes.
Oh, and the new neighbor friend? I’m not sure we’ll be seeing much of her anymore. After witnessing the “eye detachment procedure” she muttered, “Oh my God,” and suddenly had to go.
Please note: That night, I went to retrieve the purple bucket from the garage. It’s a favorite bucket we’ve had since Emme was a baby. It has served as a beach bucket, a decorative hat for Emme, and is now the preferred bath toy for all 3 children.
I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out why it stunk so bad.
Ignorance is indeed blissful.
In light of the circumstances, the purple bucket has been evicted, and now lives only in our memories.
Along with all of the deceased reptiles that have had the bad fortune to cross our property line.