Why can't we be a normal family?

I ask you this simple question: "What is normal?"

In my book "normal" would include a little housie, with a little doggie, and some little kiddies.

If a "normal" father and daughter went onto the front porch one evening, they would return empty handed, but, oh no no no, not this family.






Yes, everyone, that is a snake. (Seth assured me it was not venomous).



Yes, this is my daughter petting the snake. Perhaps we should keep it and add it to the fish and two Amazonian frogs living in our guest bathroom. Nothing says home like a reptile/amphibian collection.

As a child, my husband had not only snakes, but birds, turtles, minnows (they only live the night apparently before floating to the top in a stinky mass suicide), dogs, more dogs, horses, cats, more cats, a giant hairball they named "Fluffy" and so on. I can see my fate unfolding before my eyes. As soon as Wyatt is old enough, I will be so outnumbered our house will resemble Ace Ventura's. "Come to me my jungle friends."




I can only cling to the girlie side draped in fake jewelry and clacking around in high heels. Oh please win girlie side. I need an ally! I'll buy you all the lip gloss you want...