Yuck!

So, I rescued an 8" worm this morning. 

I'm fairly sure I never even touched the worm I disected in Biology class 20 years ago...based on my grade, I imagine not... so why did I touch a worm this morning?

One word:  Charlie

Yes, I realize that comes as no surprise, but seriously...worms?  And did I mention that I rescued a frog about a year ago?  He appeared on my windshield as I was cruising down Highway 26 at 70 miles per hour.  Late to meet Jason for something or other, I pulled into a rest stop and grabbed the terrified, wind blown, but still slimy creature and assisted him to the grass, getting peed on in the process -- Charlie cheering from his carseat the whole time.

So this morning while Charlie and Jason were pushing the recycling to the street, I noticed a huge worm on the driveway, and when Charlie got cam back I suggested that he "rescue" it by putting it in the grass. 

His response? "But it's slimy!"  This from the kid who once handed me a worm in three pieces.

But what is a mom to do?  After I tell him that the worm needs rescuing, can I just turn my back?  Oh, you're probably thinking that I could just had Jason do it, right?  Not so much...

You see, Daddy conveniently had a conference call starting that exact minute, so he had to climb in the car and close the door to launch the call...all the while smiling and laughing through the windshield as I tried to figure out how to avoid touching the nasty creature.

Finally, I just bouyed up my confidence and tried to grab it, but I couldn't!  The crazy thing was squirming and jumping like I'd never seen, while I was shrieking and Charlie was giggling...  It's a wonder that only two neighbors stopped to watch -- and offer advice...  Sheesh!

I'm still not sure how, but eventually I plucked the nasty thing off the ground and flung him towards the grassy patch between the house and driveway.  Of course, he actually hit the house and landed in the flowerbed, so "rescue" might not be an accurate term...I may have actually just provided a quicker and easier death than baking on the driveway, but I at least get points for trying, right?

Charlie's response to the whole experience?  "But Mama, he's in the mulch.  You need to move him to the grass!"  Not a chance!