nature lovers from way back, here's a friend we found in our house over the weekend, it's easy being green in our house - you just get tossed back into the garden.
First up, I've converted my two wee ones to love this song. Sick I know. Not that they've seen the clip. We've been indulging in a little bad dancing about the house. Well one obliges, the other merely surrenders in my arms. She is after all ten months and really has no choice. She squeals with delight though, so I'm guessing she digs it too.
I've been spiralling out of control this weekend. I keep driving past the bin. Can't stop thinking about it. I even take detours well out of our way to scope it out. I should be employed by the FBI, ASIO, someone even a private investigator could use me. I should certainly be earning points for stalking, or should I say, staking out my prey. I've been wondering what I'm missing out on. But each time I do succumb and do a drive-by, the bin is empty. They're playing mind games with me. Again.
This brings me to The Lizard Man. I caught a small lizard in our bedroom this weekend. This is a normal occurrence, we seem to have some type of reptilian museum going on in there. I often find them curled up near the doorway in Winter. I'm not such a mad keen lizard fan, but The Doctor is pretty well into them. I often look up to see him walking around the garden with a small lizard in hand. He must be quick to catch them, cause they are wiggly, squiggly things, but he loves it.
So The Doctor came in to remove the lizard for me. He took it outside, but I was pre-occupied trying to thwart my ironing pile from growing any larger, and Matt was otherwise occupied with the contents of the fridge. A few minutes later I asked The Doctor what he had done with the lizard, and if he had popped it back into the garden. He usually does and tells me they've returned to the 'Mummy wizard'. He told me he'd put it in his sandpit and that he'd play with it later. We were on the way to get new sand, so I figured - great the lizard will have time to escape from poking, prodding small fingers.
As we were getting ready to go out, The Doctor was toting a small gardening bag that he keeps his tools in. I asked him what he had in it. "Oh it's a secret." I was a little dubious, "Is the lizard in there?"
"No, Mummy, it's a secret."
Fair enough, I've got loads of secrets in my bag. But usually I call them C.H.O.C.O.L.A.T.E. Each to their own. The Doctor isn't at the age where he knowingly fibs. I trusted him and off we went to the nursery - where they have a small cafe. We had a drink, bought our sand and hopped back into the car - I then had the genius idea that we would just nip up to the sewing centre as I still hadn't picked up my sewing machine from being serviced. All was good in the world.
On the drive back I noticed The Doctor peering into his bag. "Is the lizard in that bag? What's in your bag?"
"It's a secret, Mummy. Just a secret. It's not a wizard."
I thought fair enough, I'll stop hassling the little dude. I then decided to shift the responsibility elsewhere. As all good managers do.
"Matt, do you think The Doctor has a lizard in that bag?"
"No, he doesn't have the dexterity to pick up a lizard."
Ah. That's clearly where he's wrong. I've seen The Doctor pick up more than just one lizard. And not just on slow, cool days when they're travelling at half the speed. No. I've seen him with lizards on steaming hot days. Wiggling in his hands. With tails still intact.
I gave up. But not for long. Once we pulled into the driveway, The Doctor peeked once more into his bag (the secret one) and then I saw it. The small lizard. The 'tired' lizard (as The Doctor once called it). I freaked. I told Matt to get The Doctor and the lizard out of the car, pronto.
If you've ever met my husband, he's a supercruiser. As titled by my sister. He is. I don't deny it. I don't even think he denies it.
To cut a long and slightly cranky story short, the lizard freed himself of the secret bag, and is now loose in our car. Matt and The Doctor left all the car doors open in a bid to release him back into the wild.
And now, while driving, I have complete paranoia that a small lizard is going to poke its head out. I even felt a phantom lizard crawling across my toes in the car.
"Oh yes officer, sorry, a lizard crawled across my feet while I was driving hence the rapid acceleration. Oops."
A likely story.
Let's just hope that when I next go driving, one of these doesn't pop out from under my seat.