I do not like snakes. I've said it over and over. I don't hate them. I just don't like them. I have worked most of the last 23 years outside. In the mountains. In the swamps. Along interstate highways. On farms. Every time a day would be going along smooth and there it was slithering out from between your boots. A friggin' snake. Then you would spend the rest of the day looking for the next one. Three foot rattlers. Six foot black snakes. Red striped garter snakes. A den full of little six inches snakes all over the place. Been there done that. So when we walked around Wildwood Lake last weekend and my son said that one word, "Snake." I froze. Mid step. Balance. Look. It's OK he's over there. My son found this routine funny. Some habits are hard to break.
2 comments:
I do not like snakes too. That routine of snake and funny. A little boy would have been swiming in Wildwood Lake.
Way to go, Sam Bubba
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