Yeah, it's my own fault for taking my science loving six year-old out on a midnight stroll. Also my bad for bringing a flashlight (but better that we saw this thing than stepped on it - or had it burrowing into my Keenes). Though to be fair, what were the odds? Not of us finding one - but of her even being able to catch it?
Not only did she catch it, it damn near hopped right into her hand. And when she dropped him twice, one would assume he'd start hopping away for dear life. Nope. He pretty much just snuggled right up next to her and rode her shoulder the whole way home like a human uber.
Because toads are gross - they are. Not only that, but there are TWO gianormous problems with toads.
ONE: The only things that eat toads are snakes - and bigger toads. So this is a no-win for me. No toads, means there must be snakes - or even bigger damn toads.
TWO: Toads are one of Punk's absolute favorite animals in the whole world, and he's passed this affinity to his baby sister. Don't believe me?
He's sleeping with it for Lord's sake! Personally, I'd be fine with our lawn mover taking down an entire knot of toads, or planting some kind of toad poison, but I do realize that it would be the equivalent of Punk coming in after a hard day of yardwork and saying, "Hey mom, you may not wanna head outside for a few hours. I think I took down an entire pod of bottle-nosed dolphins out there."
So instead, we are feeding it.
You heard me - feeding it.
In case you're wondering, I forgot to feet the kid today, but Freddy (as in "Freddy My Love") will have all the crickets he can get his fat little mouth around.
My only hope is that when he eats - he'll stop making this noise. It haunts my dreams: