Two days ago, on the walk home from school, #2 found and befriended a little striped snail. He was very worried it might get hurt on the sidewalk and insisted we build it a house in the garden. Building one house was so much fun that we quickly moved on and built another, just in case our snail (named 'Lyon') had friends come to stay. Yesterday, when I checked, Lyon was nowhere to be found. Snails are faster than one might think. I was terribly worried as #2 had already asked me in tears if his snail would die someday. (And I, being an honest parent, said 'yes -- everything dies eventually -- but we can bury him in a snail graveyard'.)
I needn't have been so concerned. On the walk to school this morning we found 10 more garden snails. Thankfully, I had my grocery cart with me and part of my cart arsenal is a couple of plastic egg cartons. We packaged the snails up and I relocated them to the garden after dropping the boys at school.
There are now plans to build an entire faerie village for the snails to inhabit. Having fond memories of this sort of thing from my own childhood, I'm more than happy to jump on board. ;)
But is it terrible of me to have a sudden craving for escargot smothered in garlic butter?