Recently the little hummingbird discovered a new friend in a salamander. She was picking up the plastic downspout while she was in the backyard and there he was.
Okay, off topic for a minute but I think I’m the only one in the entire universe who didn’t know that thingy the rain gutter drains into was called a downspout. I’ve seen them but had no idea they actually had a name besides “that thingy”.
My husband was talking about the downspout and I was like “A what-y? I don’t know what you’re talking about” and then he schooled me on all the different kinds of downspouts there are.
I, of course, zoned out while he was talking about them since the Real Housewives Of Orange County was on but concluded that they are, in fact, that thingy the rain gutter drains into.
Ahem, anyway….my daughter had her first salamander friend and when she saw this slimy creature, she did her Flashdance move. When anything excites her, she stands there and her little legs run in place.
All that’s missing are some leg warmers, a leotard, and a rockin’ 80’s soundtrack. We’ll take a pass on the 80’s hair though. I have plenty of pictures back when I was in junior high school in the late 80’s to scare me.
My husband took our little girl out in the backyard to play and nothing seemed amiss when they came back inside. It wasn’t until later that night that I could tell my hubby wanted to tell me something but was hesitant.
He knows how much I love animals….except spiders, snakes, and eels. Eels scare the pee out of me. Whenever we go to the aquarium, my hubby likes to torture me and point them out. I fall for it every time and look at those creepy things with their mouths open like they’re trying to say “one day we will come for you and eat your face off”.
As much as I hate spiders, when there’s one in the house, I’ll stop my blood curdling screams long enough to remind my husband that I’d rather he catch it, not kill it, and put it outside. He follows that with a smash of the spider.
I kept at him to tell me what was wrong and he said, mostly kidding, that we have a killer on our hands. I asked, mostly kidding, “Oh gawd, who have you killed?” and he replied “It’s not me, it was the little girl”.
Before he said more, I had visions of coming home 12 years from now and seeing the little hummingbird all Dexter-ish, complete with a room covered in plastic.
My husband was telling me that when they were in the backyard, she had picked up the downspout to check on her little salamander and after she did her Flashdance move, she slammed the downspout back onto poor Mr. Salamander and SPLAT!
The hubby said when the hummingbird ran to get one of her toys, he went to check on poor Mr. S but saw that his days of doing salamader things, whatever that might be, were over.
After going back and forth about whether our little girl will become a serial killer, I remembered something my husband told me had happened when he was about 9 years old involving his pet gerbil.
I can never say gerbil with a straight face and always think of, well, you know. My hubby brought his pet into the living room where his parents and sister were.
When his gerbil would run in one direction, he would karate chop the floor so it would run the other way. It was just meant to be harmless fun. This went on for a few minutes. The gerbil ran to the right, karate chop. He ran to the left, karate chop…Ruh Roh!
My husband karate chopped a little too fast and his poor pet didn’t make it. My hubby was terrified of what his parents would do if they found out. He ended up putting his gerbil back in his cage and “discovered” him later on.
To this day his parents still don’t know what happened. My family has heard this story several times and now you know. Just an fyi, my hubby knows I’m writing about his gerbil mishap. Maybe it’s just me but “gerbil mishap” sounds pretty pervy.
So, that’s where the little hummingbird gets her killer instincts.