20 March 2010

where's jimmy cagney
when you need him. . .

you dirty rat.

well, not so dirty after all.

anna, my youngest, has the privilege of taking care of her class' pet rats for spring break. she proudly brought home this HUGE cage with two rats in it on friday afternoon.

about every 2 hours, she wants to play with the rats. cocoa and madame cheese, in case you wonder, are their names. cute little buggers, they. like to scamper up and down your arms, they do. curious little creatures--they run to the end of your outrstretched fingertips, sniff the air in wonder at what's out there, and then amscray back to the shoulders as though something out there scared them witless.

she's playing with the rats now, as i write this. maybe i should go supervise. (that's code for play with the rats too--after all, my wife was supervising earlier, and you should have heard the screams of delight coming from both of them. oh, they were screams of delight, all right. i know what my wife sounds like when she is frightened by spiders and other nonesuch household pets, and these were not the same screams.)

you dirty rat.

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