"Here Comes Peter Cottontail…"

I have been told by several people that I just HAVE to blog this story, so I guess I’ll do it today…

On Wednesday, I took Weslea to preschool. In February, we pulled Weslea out of the Black River Preschool for a variety of reasons and now a former teacher friend of ours (Julie) from church is teaching Weslea and my other friend (Amy’s) boys in their own little preschool at Amy’s house. It has been wonderful — Weslea is learning so much more and she absolutely loves going to school.

Back to the story….we get to preschool a little early on Wednesday and I left Weslea and Weston in the yard to play with Amy’s kids while I went in to chit-chat with Amy and Julie for awhile. A few minutes later, Weslea ran in yelling that Weston had blood on his hands. I immediately ran out with her yelling, “Why is Weston bleeding?” She tells me, “Weston’s not bleeding, the bunny he’s holding is bleeding!”

WHAT?!?!?!?!?

I ran towards the garage to see what was going on and out walks Weston…….with his chubby little fist wrapped around a DEAD RABBIT’S NECK just as if it were his new stuffed animal.

You all know me and animals…..can you imagine me and a DEAD animal?

Needless to say, I got a little panicked and screamed for him to drop it. He absolutely refused — it was his new stuffed animal afterall! The more I yelled for him to drop it, the harder he squeezed the rabbit’s neck. By this time, I’m feeling more than just a little bit panicked and thought I might actually hyperventilate as I realized that I was actually going to have to touch the thing. I finally pried his fingers open and pulled the *#$!% animal from his hand.

Of course, my completely worthless friends stood inside the front door and laughed hysterically during the entire scene. I’d be surprised if they didn’t have wet marks in their pants by the time I got him inside to start disinfecting his hands. I’m pretty sure that Amy and Julie got to see me at my worst that day!

Weston was completely ticked off that his stuffed animal was gone. After I let him back outside (to play in the playground they have in their backyard) he began trying to sneak around the house to go find his bunny. I had to go back outside and discard of the thing before he was able to spend cuddle time with it again.

Apparently, Amy’s outdoor cats like to kill small animals. The best part of this story? There was a dead mouse in the yard as well and I found out later from Weslea that Weston had carried around the mouse for awhile before he switched to the bunny (!?)

I’m not sure if I’m cut out for this part of bringing up boys!