We have crabs.

Allow me to begin by stating: I appreciate wildlife. I appreciate nature, in fact, all things Mother Nature has chosen to bestow upon us (save for perhaps that ugly monthly "gift") beautify our world. Inspire us to be better humans, better citizens, take better care of ourselves, our loved ones, our planet.

(please wait, while I climb down off soapbox here)

However.

I also firmly believe that nature should live with, in, near, beside, or on top of other nature. Frogs for the most part? Don't come home. (I'm totally skipping that episode when Fox was twoish and some change, running naked in his wellies, bringing in frogs that sent our three huge dogs lunging across countertops..but I digress) Foxes hardly even wander into the house, make themselves at home, requesting a fresh kill be dressed in the kitchen. I'm not boarding any wandering skunks, beavers, nor am I inviting huge trout to move in. I have those sorts of rules: that which usually (read: damn near always) live outdoors? Belong living outdoors.

Permanently. Like, say, for the rest of their natural lives.

Granted, I'm beyond thrilled that Fox received an invitation to hit Scusset Beach with some pals, that they picked up rocks, shells, bits of agate, bringing home more sand in his suit that perhaps he left on the beach itself. Since he didn't go with me, and I do also firmly back the When In Rome, Do As The Romans Do Philosophy, I swallowed my initial reaction to what exactly he brought back from the beach.

Thank the good Lord above it at the very least had a lid.

In a cup, (lidded, obviously - I just said so - I'm in shock, so bear with me here) were (or is it are, as they're still alive?) a dozen HERMIT CRABS.

He'd built them quite the condo. Seaweed for nibbling; sand for wandering amongst, enough seawater that when some of C's seawater spilled out of her un-lidded bucket, Fox generously shared some of his, so her crabs wouldn't die - leaving just about enough for "our" family of hermit crabs.

Our?

Have I mentioned I know less than nothing about hermit crabs? How long they live leaps to mind as an obvious querie; as does what in hell they eat. Especially as it's not as though I keep seaweed on hand. I suppose I could hit up Trader Joe's, as I'm sure they have some weird dried out seaweed to whip up homemade sushi - then again, what if they dine on alga? or some form of microscopic protozoan only found in natural seawater; not the fake seawater I'm going to have to steal from Jonathan's seawater salt pool thing? Apparently, no chlorine. Better for skin. Can smell like low tide, but why should that bother me now?

Low fucking tide is living on my goddamn countertop!

Coming full circle, I'm now left with hoping seawater from a salt based pool regulator is close enough to the real thing: otherwise, I'll totally lose my standing as Mom Of The Year.

That's right. I'll become That Murdering Mom That I Used To Listen To, But Don't Now Because She Killed My New "Pets".

The few things I do know about hermit crabs? They outgrow their shells, needing new ones. (Hello!!! This would be why we LEAVE THEM AT THE BEACH! where they'll find all the new shells they'll ever need!) They're rather territorial. Can be aggressive with each other - only the boys ones, Fox assured me.

Um, anyone have any clue whatsoever on how to tell a "girl" hermit crab from the "boy" ones?

Yeah, me neither.

The purply-pink one Fox brought home for me? Which of course I "would adore, mama, it's your colors, with strips and a little polka dot in the middle! Isn't she cute? " Somehow, I couldn't very well break into the let's send these little guys down the toilet as All Drains Lead To The Sea - I'm not sure a Nemo reference assists me here.

Those big brown eyes, telling me all about how he had to be sneaky to catch 'em, they're elusive, you know (yeah, so people leave them at the beach...perhaps I'm belaboring that point a wee tad) and since all good things come in twelves, that's what I brought home.

I realize, I shouldn't have bothered asking, but I couldn't resist: what comes in twelves?

Eggs.

Donuts.

Juice boxes.

Fruit snacks.

Bless Mother Nature for making little boys so inquisitive, so adventurous as to charge into a perfectly Inland Not By Sea Dwelling with one of Her creations. Or a dozen of them. Bless Her for igniting a new interest, some new things about which to read, study, count - oh. dear. God. Do they multiply? Quickly? Or eat their young?

The more I dwell on this, the sweatier I get, wondering if they're going to manage to climb the sides of the tupperware container housing them now.

I suppose, the long and short of it?

I like nature.

Just not, you know, in a house. I'm of the opinion that if the house didn't come with hermit crabs?

Most likely, they're not meant to live with us.

Especially when Foxy's going to run around announcing to all and sundry that we do, indeed, have crabs.

Imagine the looks that statement will get.