I hope I don't eat those words.
It started out innocent enough...
the boys began making posters to show their solidarity for all things hamster. Then they made picket signs and paraded around the upstairs sing-chanting, "we want a hamster. We want a hamster!" I'll admit I thought the whole Norma Rae of it was cute, but still I say, "when hamsters fly."
Now, the phone campaign. Daddy is working late and they are working the lines calling him trying to ensure that they will get his vote for securing a new pet hamster. Daddy's solution was this little video. Brilliant, I say.
No smell, no fuss, no cages to clean, no hamsters flying....
My only experience with hamsters was back in the 70's, yep, the 70's. It's when I played with our distant cousin's hamsters. They smelled something awful. Using my astute little person logic, I thought they would smell...well nicer, with a nice helping of Hawaiian Tropic suntan oil. I remember how they ran for cover as I rained down the entire brown bottle on their tiny fur heads.
Needless to say those little guys, coated with coconut smelling goodness, did not fly, but simply laid down and fell asleep. Later, I found out they passed away from sunscreen intoxication. I don't think our distant cousins have ever fully forgiven me for the loss of their dear hamsters.
So now, call it hamstergeddon, call it rodent revenge, but I am in the midst of a serious standoff with some very savvy pint-sized negotiators. Mommy will win this one.
We already have one dog...
and a cat who think's he's a dog.
Plenty of animal kingdom for our family. No room for any more pets in the bee hive right now, but those little boy bees run a good campaign. If I could just get them to be more passionate about putting the lid down on the potty.
Hey, there's a campaign, but that too will probably happen, yep, you guessed it, when hamsters fly.
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