Friday was pretty dramatic. It was actually way more dramatic for 6am than any 6am on a Friday should ever be.
It started off fairly normal. Groggy me waking up a groggy boy to get this last day of the week going. Then it went sideways fast. The Boy came running into my room hysterical and in tears. Johnny died. Johnny is basically The Boy’s best lizard (well his only lizard- but he loves him). Johnny sits on his shoulder while he reads and plays his video games. Johnny climbs up the fake leaves to greet The Boy when he comes to feed him. Basically, they’re buds. And The Boy’s bud kicked it. It was a mess.
IS YOU DED?
We walked into The Boy’s drafty room that felt like 50 degrees. Definitely not desert lizard ideal. Crap. I looked into Johnny’s house and there the little f*ker was, feet up, eyes open … all dead cockroach style. Aaaand the boy was hysterical again. Shit shit shit. This was bad, you guys. What the hell was I supposed to do?!
Thankfully, the typically useless knowledge in my head may have come in handy. I had read about these lizards in Florida that froze for self-preservation during their winter freeze. And I only remembered this because the article had gone on to say these frozen and dead looking lizards were falling out of trees and onto people just walking and trying to mind there business. My anxiety brain stored this info in case I needed a reason not to visit Florida.
Anyway, maybe Johnny read the same article. I hoped for the best with Johnny and picked up his weird wrinkly body and moved him over to his heating pad. At that point I wasn’t hoping for much anymore but I had to do anything possible. I mean – short of lizard CPR.
CRAP CRAP CRAP
We left Johnny to (hopefully) thaw and revive while we got ready for school and work. He had about an hour of thaw time. Apparently thawing wasn’t what he need because he was still dead-ish. Fuck. So after checking on him one last time, the boy burst into hysterical tears again. I let him stay home because he was just not fit for any sort of peopling, but I still had to work. Ugh. not a good day.
I let my sister-in-law know The Boy was home for the day and in a state because Johnny was dead. She was going to keep an eye on him for me and hopefully help cheer him up.
SOME PET SEMETARY SH*T HAPPENING
A couple hours later (and countless texts checking on the kid’s emotional state) I get a text from The SIL “He’s ALIVE!” Apparently that scaly little drama queen just needed more thaw time. Or else he’s a zombie; honestly it doesn’t even matter as long as he’s moving. I called The SIL to make sure this was true and could hear The Boy cheering and scolding Johnny in the background. I called The Boy and joked “Johnny is a zombie!!” “Shut that talk down now! HE IS NOT!!” All right… clearly the humor in our lives has not returned quite yet. Too soon, Mom. Too soon.
PET DAD GUILT
The rest of my afternoon consisted of my phone being blown up with links to 3 story rock lounges, fancy heating pads and mansion sized terrariums. The Boy was definitely in the feels for eulogizing Johnny too soon. He had designed the poor thing’s shoe box coffin for crying out loud. I mean… he kind of should feel guilty. Freaking Johnny traumatized The Boy, broke my heart for him, and nearly gave The SIL a heart attack. But I guess we still like him. I think I talked some logic into him and got him to put a pin in the multilevel hundred dollar rock hangout.
But if you see my Instagram and there’s a lizard wearing a crown and chilling in a three story desert style mansion looking terrarium, just mind your business.