Snailicide

Last summer Libby wouldn't touch anything that crawled. She wouldn't go to sleep if there was a fly buzzing in the room, and if a bee came into our driveway she'd bolt into the house. Don't even get me started on her fear of dragonflies. I think it must've be the name. Dragon flies. Needless to say, she wasn't a fan.

It seems she's had a change of heart. She and Peyton like to pick up snails, touch their eyes and get cups for them to crawl in. Cups that, I might add, go through two cycles in the dishwasher.

So you can imagine my surprise as we got out of the car the other day, when Libby picked up a snail in the driveway, pulled its shell apart, dropped the poor, slimy creature at her feet and said, "There. That snail should be dead in no time."

"Um, yeah. But was that really necessary?"