Last night I was baking snickerdoodles in the kitchen, and Jack was hanging out in his door jumper. He started fussing, so I asked Jason to please take care of him. I was absorbed in rolling cookie dough balls in cinnamon sugar, and so I was taken aback when Jason promptly came to me with the baby--still in the door jumper! He shoved him in my arms, and said, "Take Jack and go to the other end of the house, NOW!"
An uncharacteristic command--I quickly heeded.
The first thought that flashed through my mind was reptilian in nature. All I could picture was Jason getting the gun and blasting a hole in my floor.
I was right--it was a snake! A baby snake, but still, a snake!! In my own house!! I screamed inside my head, since the older kids were in bed.
The door that leads to the garage has a huge gap between it and the threshold. This problem could be fixed by a new threshold, but the problem is the door itself. It's an interior door, and really, very inadequate for insulating purposes.
Logic flees in the presence of fear. Jason said the snake was cold, and was coming in where it was warm. I said I didn't care, I wanted a new door tomorrow, snakes have snake buddies. I might have gotten a little bossy about it. Jason tried to grin, laugh and cheer me up about it, but I gave him my best hairy eyeball.
So, bless the man's heart, we are getting a new door today. He hired a friend to pick one up and install it this afternoon.*
Later that evening, Jason told me not to take any more baths in our tub.
"I found a crack in it."
"As in, a crack in the paint? Or a crack in the tub?" (We painted the original blue tub with tub and tile paint.)
"As in, a crack in the tub. So don't take any more baths until I figure out how to fix that."
*I must add that Jason is fully capable of changing a door. He just doesn't have time right now, since it is harvest season.