Did I mention that Spidey the Hermit Crab from last summer's trip to South Carolina finally bought the farm? I think we might actually have slowly starved and dehydrated him to death forgetting on a regular basis to feed and water him. Or it could be that he finally succumbed to the near freezing temperature of our house. I read someone where that they like to between 70-75 degrees, and our house hasn't seen that temp since October. Too bad they don't make little crab sweaters.
But the actual discovery of his death was pretty creepy. Ian reached into his tank and pulled him out waving to me saying, "Look mommy, here's Spidy." As I turn my head Ian has this look of terror on his face as crabby slid out of his shell hard as a rock and landed on the craft table, shriveled as an old toenail. Yikes. I did not respond well I'm afraid to say. In fact, I may have even escalated the situation. "Oh my god, oh my god," I shrieked, "We've got to throw him away, holy cow." I think the kids actually were handling it better than me. I finally pulled it together to comfort Ian. I don't know exactly how attached he was to Spidey, and I think like me, he was a little more freaked out by that hard crusty naked crab on the craft table than the thought of "death."
He ended up in a butter dish with a quick goodbye (I think I might have even saved the dish) before being tossed into the kitchen garbage. We're not ones for sentimentality around here. No funerals, no final thoughts on Spidey.
He was a good crab. He lived a long time for our house. He switched shells 4 times. We're sorry we weren't better crab parents. So long Spidey.
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