On Saturday night we picked up some lobsters for dinner (all except poor pregnant me, who can't eat them due to their high mercury content or some fool thing). We had them once before, back in June, and Corinne, despite her love for "Hey Heys", as she called them, was a little bit bugged out by them and freaked out as soon as we took them out of the bag. Not so this time. She approached them cautiously at first, and then touched one carefully. She noticed he was bumpy and had blue on him and had a pointy nose like a rhino. And he smelled like pee yew.
From there all her reservations completely dissipated. Next thing we knew she was picking them up and playing with them. She brought one upstairs to "prise Gampa". She hid one in the dresser drawer in her room to sleep with her. She called them her lobster pets and said they were so cute. Then she put all four into the lobster trap coffee table in the living room, saying it was their nice safe cage. But the absolute best Corinne quote was that they looked like "little mailmen. And they bring mail to yucky people." Ah, Corinne, you are exactly the quirky child that everyone predicted would be the offspring of Pete and I!
We put her to bed before it was time to cook her lobster friends (lest we set her back after making all this progress), although I think some of them were dead by this time already. Poor things. Death by toddler has got to be way worse than death by boiling.
