My daughter has crabs and I gave them to her.

What happens when you take your daughter to the beach last November and then again in June?  She becomes obsessed with crabs, that's what.  Lizzy's been begging me since last year to buy some crabs.  Last year, people, last year.

I may have stretched the truth an told her they were not the kind of animals that can be bought at the store.  I may, or may not, have further stretched the truth and stated, "They are sea creatures and we just can't get them here in Kansas."

So when we were talking about crabs again at lunch I had my old lines ready to go and was all set for the assault.  I was all ready with the standard, "You know baby, we'll see them the next time we go to Sanibel.  Crabs just don't do well here in the Midwest."  Or in my kitchen.   Eww Gawd, please not in the kitchen.  

This time however my mom was at the table.

But before I could get any of that out my mom answers Lizzy, "Oh, you're interested in Hermit Crabs?  Do you want to go and see some?  I didn't know that!  We can run down to PetSmart real quick.  Wanna come with Grandma?"

This is the time where we take a magical little interlude because all the neurons in my brain simultaneously stopped firing.  Call it shock, numb silence, whatever you will.  I stood there slack jaw just watching life move on around me.  And now we're back.....

Acckkk!  Wait.  Stop.  Shut up.

SHUT UP.  SHUT UP,  NOWWW.

I almost dive-bombed my mom from across the kitchen.

I had visions of tackling her football style.  Knocking her down and pounding her head into the ceramic floor for good measure.  Watching the fork pop out of her hand from the impact and making a perfect arc as it went sailing and then bouncing across the floor.  Anything just to get her to shut up about Hermit Crabs.

But it was too late.  

The damage was done.

I looked over at Lizzie.  I have never seen a smile so big.

"Hermit Crabs???  We can get some Hermit Crabs???"  Her smile lit up my night for three whole days.

The crabitat.  

So that is why I am now the proud owner of three Hermit Crabs.  One of which I know is going to die in the next forty-eight to seventy two hours and has a shell like a cow's head.  I know.  A cow head.  First off, how on earth am I going to replace that?!?  And second, who does that to a shell?  Turns it into a cow's head.  I feel sorry for the crab having to schlep that thing around.

I'm gonna bite ya.

And I'll let you in on a little secret about me.  Crabs scare me.  They freak me out.  Give me the hee-bee-jee-bies, the willies, whatever you call them.  They're like hard shelled spiders.  Tarantulas with shells.  Look at that thing up there.  It has claws, long spider-like legs and little beady eyes.  They scratch the sides of the aquarium going, "I'm a gonna get outta here and when I do I'm gonna bite ya.  Your food sucks and I'm gonna pinch you for it.  And tell that baby to quit banging on our house."

The first two nights we had these things I didn't sleep.  I'm still having a hard time sleeping.

Lizbeth, you're mine.

Someone please tell me how to kill these things and make it look like an accident.  I don't care if it's humane or not.  I love my daughter but these things are seriously crimping my style.

They have to go.



Update: So we've had these things for six days now and its official.  They're staying.  None have died (dam-it) and she's named all three of them.  


Oh yeah, and they're in the kitchen, in the dining area.