I had another post planned for today, but then, well, my second encounter with a lizard happened, and I thought I should share.
I was carrying swimming bags, gym bags, diaper bags, zip-lock bags - just a whole lot of bags - in from the car, and as I set down the ridiculous load of bags I saw a little lizard scamper across the kitchen floor. Just as I did last time, I let out a high-pitched squeal/yelp/gasp, which prompted a "what's the matter, Mama?" from Will. So as to appear like I had everything under control - which we all known was NOT the case - I hurriedly but calmly explained to the kids that a lizard had ventured into the house, and that I had to help him get back outside. And then I went to work.
A cup. I needed a cup. At any given time I could open any cupboard in my kitchen and find at least five cups. But for some reason I was certain I needed a specific cup - a University of Michigan football cup (the kind sodas are sold in at athletic events) - because it was big, sturdy, and I didn't care if I had to throw it away. (What?! You think I'm going to keep a cup used to capture a lizard?!) I instructed Will to keep his eyes glued to the lizard while I frantically searched for the correct cup. When Will yelled "he's moving!" I panicked and grabbed his Handy Manny, party favor cup ("please don't mess up my cup, Mama!") and slowly approached the lizard. I was totally hyperventilating, and mini-screams kept escaping my lips.
My first attempt to trap the lizard was a bust - I was too slow and he was too fast - but my second attempt was successful. The lizard was trapped under the cup, and I was once again safe in my kitchen, but I was perplexed about what to do next.
I finally decided to push the upside-down cup across the floor to the back door, at which point I would "scoop and throw" the lizard out into the back yard. Lizards can fly, right?
Unfortunately, as I pushed the upside-down cup across the floor, the lizard would semi-escape my trap every time the cup traveled over the grout between the kitchen tiles. (For the record, I'm nearly hyperventilating as I type this.) I decided I'd need to apply pressure on the top of the cup as I pushed so that as we went over the grout there would be no way out. The extra pressure worked, however it also amputated one of the lizard's legs. Do you know what lizard legs do after they've been amputated? They keep on wiggling. For a LONG time.
Despite my hatred for this lizard, I felt really bad about his leg and therefore came up with a new way to move him to backyard. On the counter was a page I'd torn out of a Pottery Barn Kids catalog - it had on it a picture of a Batman beach towel that I'd decided to buy for Will for his next birthday. I carefully slid the catalog page under the cup, successful trapping the now three-legged lizard under the cup but also on top of the picture of the Batman towel. I folded up the sides of the catalog page around the cup, said a little prayer for mental strength, and picked up the trap I'd created.
"Open the door!" I yelled to Will, who obliged. I set the entire apparatus down on the grass, lifted the cup, and ran back inside.
Will picked the moment I slammed the backdoor shut behind me to speak up: "I really liked that little lizard!"
Really? Really?! Then next time you can catch him.
And after all that, I think the little lizard died - probably from the trauma of having his leg amputated by a crazy giant lady - on the back porch. He's still out there, resting on my Pottery Barn Kids catalog page, which means I can't even get my picture of the Batman towel back. I guess it doesn't matter though, because I'm not buying Will a Batman towel unless he catches the next lizard.