When my daughter was about three years old and her sister was one, we went to the park to play in the morning and then, before it got too hot, we drove over to the Cincinnati Museum Center to play inside in the Children’s Museum.
As we were turning into the parking lot my oldest started screaming from the backseat, “Momma! Momma! A snake! A SNAKE! A SNAKE! It’s gonna get me!” This, of course, was shocking and I immediately pulled over, hopped out of the car, and tore open her door.
“Where! Where is it!” I said looking frantically around the floor and her seat.
She was pushing herself up in her seat which is hard to do in a five-point harness child seat. Her eyes were fixed on the point where the five points meet. “RIGHT THERE!” she wailed, tears running down her cheeks. “RIGHT THERE!”
Finally, my brain caught up with my eyes and I was able to focus on the tiniest little inch worm. No one was harmed in the removal of this ferocious beast.
NOTE: The inch worm went on to live a safe and satisfying life in the crabapple tree. He writes often. That must be the only word he knows.