No where...now way...now how...was I properly warned.
Had I know what was going to occur in my kitchen when I was persuaded into purchasing the creepy crustaceans last month, I probably would have refused.
No. Strike that. I DEFINITELY would have refused.
I feel like I'm a fairly adventurous sort of mom. After all, I let the boys bring prehistoric creatures into our home and hatch them from their state of suspended animation, right? I let them feed their tiny pet larva-blobs the disgusting pellets of "food" (although I now have very real doubts as to what that food actually consisted of) and I let them keep their science project on my kitchen counter where I had to look at it several times a day.
Would you WANT to look at THIS every time you poured yourself an ice cold glass of Diet Coke?
Yeah, that's what I thought. You should see the underneath side...it's even worse.
So the triops? Triopses...triops's...what's the plural of triops anyway...BOTH of the things...they lived about a month and they grew and grew and grew until I had nightmares about them climbing out of their container, wriggling down my hallway on their millions of tiny oxygen-breathing feet and crawling in my ears as I slept peacefully in my bed at night.
And then...then I woke up Saturday morning and saw the light at the end of the Triops Tunnel!
One of them had kicked the bucket.
Awww....that's too bad.
Not really. Because the remaining triops?
ATE the dead one.
I can put up with a lot. But CANNIBAL creepy crustaceans in my kitchen?
I don't even think so.
Our next experiment will not involve living beings...
Except for the twins.