Rebbes and Snakes

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“Mom, Where’s my snake?” was what I was greeted with this past Sunday morning. I have to take you back a couple weeks to explain. About 3 weeks ago one of my ten year old twins, began his “marketing plan” to get a snake. He posted about 30 signs throughout our home that read, “Can I please have a snake?” As I posted this absurd request on Facebook, I was informed that there was a show “Repticon” in our city. I thought that might interest our son and eradicate his need to actually own one. So off we travel to Repticon, with my husband, the rebbe, chanting, “I don’t want to do this and promise me we won’t buy a snake.” Upon entering the “snake show” and passing a few spiked hairdos and tattooed bodies my husband says,  “We’re not in Jerusalem anymore.” He’s quite the people scanner. We walked around looking at snakes, spiders and disgusting forms of animal life and it became crystal clear to me that not only did I not want any of these animals in my home, but I wanted to leave the show. My main reason, not that I needed a main reason,  was that I could not foresee feeding live animals (crickets and mice) to slithering animals. 

I packed everyone back into the car and we were 10 minutes away when my husband said, “I want to buy the snake.” HUH? Seriously? He doesn’t really bond with the furry types of pets (dogs, cats, bunnies) yet these “pets” seemed to be calling to him. It's not so much that he wanted a snake. He's more the lizard type, but he fell into trying to appeal a 10-year-old. So back we went to buy a snake. Now each animal we’ve owned: dog, fish, birds have slowly migrated toward my bedroom. I made it clear that I would not feed, maintain or keep watch over our new pet. I also would not prepare his weekly cuisine, which consists of thawed out baby mice that are sitting in the freezer next to my kosher chickens. He acquired the name “Braken Fang” which was later changed to “Slitherin Voldemort” and either one pretty much is a good fit. Well….About a week into owning this pet my son decided he did not really like handling him. This was not a good sign. Fast forward to this morning when I was presented with “Mom, where is my snake?” Great. Now I had a loose snake in the house. I called my husband. He was determined to find him but wandered if just maybe he was sleep walking last night and removed the snake as he had a dream about a snake. Huh? Then he decided, no, that it was probably the singing from the tish (table) he had last night in honor of Lag Baomer. We had about 20 people including 6 “streimels” (rabbis with furry hats that elicited comments like, "Who were those people at your house last night?") who were singing and chanting next to a fire (“honey you cannot build a bon fire INSIDE our home) in celebration of the holiday. He tells me that probably the rebbes singing the “Shimon Bar Yochi” song evaporated the snake. Well….unlucky me, as it seems like the rebbes weren't so powerful. We found the snake lurching on the backside of the dresser. Tricky little guy. He is working on his next escape plan. I don’t know, it seems to me that as civilized people, we haven’t had such a great track record with snakes. I am definitely not going to strike up a conversation with this one.