“Before I forget,” the rock star said a few months ago, “can I get Rye a turtle for Christmas?”
Huh. A turtle? Like an animal with scaly legs and a weird little head? An animal that lives in a cage and eats I don’t want to know what? A pet without fur?
Yes, I said. Sure, babe. Rye would love that.
And because I trust the rock star with everything, I was alright with the idea.
Fast forward to a few days before Christmas. We’re at the pet store. IN THE REPTILE SECTION.
Turtles are expensive. My fiance had already decided before we got there that we ought to go a cheaper, easier, smaller-cage-required route.
Smaller, easier, cheaper? Hello! Sign me up.
So there we were LOOKING AT LIZARDS.
I was a good sport. I asked questions. I nodded my head. I listened. Smiled.
I went to look at the fish.
I wandered over and got our cat some clearance Christmas toys.
I went back to the rock star and the lizards.
His eyes twinkled. I couldn’t help but smile at that man I love who was doing something so thoughtful for my baby. And I knew: The little boy was getting lizards for Christmas.
I could barely wait to see the look on his face. Honestly, truly. I was excited.
The rock star made everything happen – two lizards, accessories, cage set-up, basking lamp (yes, I now have pets that require a “basking lamp”) and LIVE CRICKETS for the new pets to snack on.
Here’s the set-up:
And here’s Tim (Long-Tailed Luke is a little more camera-shy):
After present opening on Christmas morning, we announced there was one more for Rye. My fiance fetched the lizards. When he carried in the cage, the little boy smiled. I’m pretty sure he was wondering whether they were real: No way my mom would allow this!
For love, I did. And I’m happy. We’re happy.
What a wonderful year this is already.