Look What the Kid Dragged In
Ian toddled up to me this morning during lunch preparation. It was about 11:30, which put me in lunch preparation’s initial phase of checking the Internet. Before I can focus on food, I have to check my various news sites for updates since I last checked them an hour ago.
As Ian stood by my side, he held something up to me and yelled, “bird!” My peripheral vision said he had something small and furry, probably one of his stuffed animals. Chances are it was a stuffed bird.
After he yelled, “bird” a couple more times, I finished my paragraph and glanced down at his hands. I quickly realized that whatever he was holding wasn’t stuffed with cotton. It was small with smoky grey fur and was obviously carbon-based.
My first instinct was he was holding our cat, but this animal was much too small. Next I thought he sprung our chinchilla from his cage and was parading him around the house, but again this animal was too small.
I took a closer look, and realized he was holding a bunny. A baby bunny. A dead baby bunny.
“Bird!” he yelled, offering his catch to me.
I yelled for mommy because, honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. Mommy grew up on a farm. She had to have experience with dead animals.
Mommy was as horrified as I was. Not knowing what else to do we carried Ian outside with the bunny still tightly clutched in his hands. There we pried his hands open and dropped the bunny in the backyard where it came from.* Then I whisked Ian into the bathroom where we thoroughly scrubbed his hands.
I don’t how Ian got a dead rabbit. It was floppy when he carried it inside, so obviously it had died recently. I doubt our little 30-month-old is coordinated enough to catch a live rabbit, even a baby. I suspect that our cat caught and killed it. Our lazy, mildly obese, morbidly out-of-shape housecat caught and killed it. That sounds a lot better than our toddler smothered it.
* Several hours later it was still in the spot where we dropped it. That’s when I unceremoniously wrapped it in a plastic bag and threw it away. What else am I supposed to do with a dead wild animal?
As Ian stood by my side, he held something up to me and yelled, “bird!” My peripheral vision said he had something small and furry, probably one of his stuffed animals. Chances are it was a stuffed bird.
After he yelled, “bird” a couple more times, I finished my paragraph and glanced down at his hands. I quickly realized that whatever he was holding wasn’t stuffed with cotton. It was small with smoky grey fur and was obviously carbon-based.
My first instinct was he was holding our cat, but this animal was much too small. Next I thought he sprung our chinchilla from his cage and was parading him around the house, but again this animal was too small.
I took a closer look, and realized he was holding a bunny. A baby bunny. A dead baby bunny.
“Bird!” he yelled, offering his catch to me.
I yelled for mommy because, honestly, I didn’t know what else to do. Mommy grew up on a farm. She had to have experience with dead animals.
Mommy was as horrified as I was. Not knowing what else to do we carried Ian outside with the bunny still tightly clutched in his hands. There we pried his hands open and dropped the bunny in the backyard where it came from.* Then I whisked Ian into the bathroom where we thoroughly scrubbed his hands.
I don’t how Ian got a dead rabbit. It was floppy when he carried it inside, so obviously it had died recently. I doubt our little 30-month-old is coordinated enough to catch a live rabbit, even a baby. I suspect that our cat caught and killed it. Our lazy, mildly obese, morbidly out-of-shape housecat caught and killed it. That sounds a lot better than our toddler smothered it.
* Several hours later it was still in the spot where we dropped it. That’s when I unceremoniously wrapped it in a plastic bag and threw it away. What else am I supposed to do with a dead wild animal?
posted by Matt at
11:47 PM
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