Hey, Hey, Hey...

Last week was the last day of school for everyone in my family. My husband and girls were done last Tuesday; I was done on Friday.

Anyway, on Tuesday I got an email from Stella's teacher, asking if Stella had permission to bring home one of the crayfish that they'd been studying in their class. I knew that Stella REALLY wanted to bring one home, so I said sure. We emailed back and forth for a bit as we tried to figure out how Stella would get it home (not allowed on the bus, apparently...). Finally, it was decided that my husband could pick up the crayfish in the school's office and bring it home. Fine. When I got home that day, Stella had three crayfish, and was very happy.

I expected that Stella knew all there was to take care of a crayfish, but for some reason this was not so. We are learning. I've learned that they stink. Very much. They are also quite funny to watch when they get into their defensive mode, which is whenever they sense you are trying to get them. They back into a corner, and throw both claws up into the air (they look like miniature lobster), almost completely over their back! It reminds of the scene from "Finding Nemo," when Nemo finally escapes the dentist's office and makes it to the sea. He is swimming along the water treatment pipe, and the crabs there put up their claws, saying, "Hey, hey, hey..."

We've also learned that they can climb and escape. Last Friday was my last day of school, and I was soooo tired. Both girls had a friend over to spend the night, as that night was the showing of "Camp Rock." They were all in the playroom, it was late, and I was just crawling into bed. After warning them all not to wake me, or else, I got in bed and read for a bit, then turned out the light and got comfortable.

Just then, the door bursts open, and a tearful Stella enters the room. She tells me she just checked on the crayfish, and there was only one in the bin! So, I grumpily get up and go into her room. Sure enough, there is only one in the bin. Well, I just was in no mood to deal with this situation, and I was put further into a bad mood as I look around her room, taking in the wall-to-wall crap on the floor. How in the heck will I find two crayfish in all that mess?

Not knowing how they were able to escape (it must have been an intrically arranged escape plan), I began to just blindly pull books off the shelves of the bookcase that the crayfish tub was sitting on, yelling at Stella about the condition of her room the whole time. She is in tears, and who knows what the other girls were thinking in the other room. I finally just sent Stella to the playroom with instructions to stay there. I could hear the other girls try to console her.

I went downstairs, saying choice words the whole time, and told my husband what had happened. Then I went back upstairs and into Stella's room. I stood there in the middle of all that mess, made worse from my mad-throwing of items, and all of a sudden, there was one of the crayfish. Guess what? He was backed up against the wall, not real far from the bookcase, with his little claws thrown up over his head. I finally was able to pick him up, and I put him back into the bin.

"Hmmm," I thought. "If one didn't get very far, the other probably didn't, either." I could hear the two crayfish moving around in the bin. I listened more closely. I hear other similar sounds coming from a pile of books on the floor. I moved one. Nothing. I moved another, and there was the other crayfish, claws thrown up over his head! Hey, hey, hey....I put him back into the bin, and found a more secure top to keep it covered.

I told Stella that I had found both. But the next day she wasn't allowed to do a thing until she cleaned her room.