My Crab "Dog"

"Mommy, I've decided what pet we're going to trade for a hermit crab."

"Oh?" This is news to me. Since when did he want a hermit crab?

"Yeah. Rainbow."

Okay. I'll play. Now, in my mommy wisdom I think if he wants to trade a pet, we're going to trade one that actually doesn't run the other direction when it sees him. That'll make him face reality.

"No, if we're going to get rid of a pet, it's going to be the dog."

"Pogisa? Okay."

Darn. Foiled again. Let's keep trying.

"I'll put an add on Craig's list right now. I'm sure there's another little boy who'd just love to have Pogisa."

"Okay! I can't wait to get a hermit crab!"

And the rest of the morning continues with him saying goodbye to the dog. Okay. You want to play that way. I'm going to teach this little ingrate a lesson--Mommystyle. I clandestinely call my cell phone with our home phone.

"Hello? Yes. Yes. She's about 7-8 months old. A really good dog. Uh-huh. Part Lab, part Whippet, part Shitzu. Black. Yes. She's been fixed and has all her shots. Today? Sure. I have to drop my son off at a class, but when I get back, you can pick her up around 1:45. Oh your little boy is going to love her. Really? Oh, his friends are going to be envious! Yep. We have a dog crate, bowls, leashes, the works! Thanks a lot. See you soon. Bye." Give that girl a Grammy!

"Mommy, who was that?"

"Oh, that was someone who's going to come get the dog."

"Today?"

Snap. Oh yeah.

"Yes. Today. When you come home, (dramatic pause) she'll be gone." Okay, ready the violins.

"They have a little boy?"

"Yes, and he's very excited to have a dog. He can't wait to get her."

"Is he coming?"

"Oh yes." Here it comes. Wait for it. Wait for it...

Dripping with disappointment "Ooooooo, why don't I get to see him? Why can't I be here to see the little boy." *in full whine mode*

What?!

"Because that's what works for them. THE DOG WILL BE GONE WHEN YOU GET HOME."

Whimpering, "Well, make sure you show him my room. Okay? And tell him my name."

"Yeah. Whatever." Okay. Did not see that coming. Obviously, I'm going to have to take this further. In the meantime...

"I'm going to miss you, girl, but we're getting a hermit crab! I can't wait to get a hermit crab. Mommy, can I get one or more? I'll keep it in a plastic bag at night in my bed, so it can sleep with me."

A la trouts. Now, I'm starting to get annoyed.

"Vaughn, you can't keep a hermit crab in a plastic bag in your bed."

"Why not?"


"Because it will suffocate and die. You can't sleep with hermit crabs. You can't pet hermit crabs, either."

"You can too! You can hold them and pet them."


"That's not petting. That's...touching. It's different." Blood pressure rising. "They're not a pet!"


"Well, I'd better play with you, girl, because after my class I won't be able to. Awww, girl. We're going to get a hermit crab! I can't wait. Mommy, when can be go to get the crab? After class?"

And so it continues. Meanwhile my blood is reaching the boiling point thinking how cavalierly my son is ready to trade in an animal we've had for all of 5 months, spent hundreds of dollars on, tons of time, and cleaned up millions of messes, all for a damn crustacean. I wrack my brain on ways I could arrange for the dog to temporarily disappear so the reality hits him when he comes back from his class, but I'll be damned if I'm going to pay more money on doggy daycare so Vaughn can learn a valuable lesson, and it's for this simple reason: I know in my heart that the only reaction I'd get after going through all my machinations is the minute Vaughn sees the dog gone the first words out of his mouth are going to be:

"Can we go get the hermit crab now?"

One point Vaughn. Zero for Mommy. I don't understand it. It always worked for the Bradys.