Venomous Venetians

We went for a walk today. I was holding Phoebe's hand and walking beside Benjamin. We were talking about the trees, how green and leafy they're getting. We were noting what kind of trees he likes and what kind of trees they have elsewhere in the world. 

And then Phoebe came to a sudden halt. My arm yanked backwards, pulling me off balance. 

"Whaaat?" I asked with a little more impatience than was probably necessary. 

My patience is thin these days. We are on a countdown to the end of the semester and I am frustrated by all of my final projects. I cannot seem to pull any of them together. My brain is feeling pulled in a thousand directions and I wish it would stop, that we could just fast forward to the end. But I also want time to slow down...so that I have time to finish these projects, see?

Plus, Phoebe yanks on my arm frequently when we walk. She will come to a screeching halt to look at a rock or a pinecone or a leaf. She'll drop into a squat to examine an ant or pick some wood sorrel. Or her shoe will come loose. Or she'll see an airplane and stop to stare. 

And every time I'll about feel like she's going to yank my arm off. 

I know that nursemaid's elbow is a thing that happens in kids...but like...can your kids do it to you? It could still be called nursemaid's elbow, only the roles would be reversed, like the kid is yanking on your arm instead of the other way around?

Side note: I've been worried about accidentally causing nursemaid's elbow in one of my kids but have so far avoided it (unlike some people I know—Grandpa). Like, just when they're holding your hand and skipping alongside you and then they...trip...and instead of letting them, like, faceplant into the cement or something, you kind of just...jerk their arm to keep them upright? Every time that happens—when my child who had been carefully balancing on the curb is suddenly dangling in the air from my hand—I worry that I'm going to have pulled their elbow. But—phew!—so far that hasn't happened. 

But, like, I honestly do wonder if it could happen to me when my child is walking along, holding my hand, and then suddenly just...lifts their feet off the ground or sits down or whatever.

They do that, you know? 

Like, you can just be walking along like normal and then all of a sudden they just...drop anchor and, whoa—thirty pounds of dead weight! 

It really throws me off balance and has even caused me physical pain.

Benjamin (no offense, kid) was the worst offender of this sort. For a time he was banned from holding my hand because he would yank on my arm so much and I just...couldn't even handle it...like...it was not a good time. My dominant hand-holding shoulder was screaming from all the abuse it had taken. He'd just be hopping along beside me, pulling my arm with every little hop-step. So Andrew straight up banned Benjamin from holding my hand for a while because he could not stop yanking on it. 

But he grew out of it. 

Whether it was because he grew out of the yanking or simply grew out of wanting to hold hands...I'm not sure...but he no longer yanks on my arm.

So there's hope for everyone. 

Anyway, we were on a walk and Phoebe "dropped anchor" suddenly.

"Whaaat?!" I asked with a little more impatience than I should have.

"Uh...snake?" she said, pointing (like, duh).

And, yup, there was a decently-size Eastern kingsnake crossing the road directly in front of us. 

If she hadn't pointed it out to us, Benjamin and I would have probably stepped on it—we were so focused on the trees! 

Aren't we lucky to have a four-year-old around who notices everything?

(As Josie pointed out, she is much closer to the ground—all the better to see snakes and things.)

I took a picture and sent it to Andrew, who was on campus today. 

"Not Venetian right?" he texted back. 

"Eastern, actually," I responded (knowing full well he meant to type venomous). "Eastern kingsnake."

"Ugh...venomous."

"Not venomous."

"Defs not Venetian."

The snake is neither Venetian nor venomous. 

Benjamin wanted to pick it up but chickened out in the end when it turn its head to look at him (though he did note how silky it felt, unlike his bearded dragon which does not feel very smooth at all).