By Sandy Greene
For the Salisbury Post
How many blondes does it take to kill a snake?
Maybe that can be answered by the end of this story.
There’s not much I won’t do to protect my kids, even when it comes to snakes.
Ever since they were young, I’ve warned them, “Be careful in the grass. Wear your shoes.”
They hear, “Blah. Blah. Blah.”
So, I do my best to keep my eyes open. I’ve spared the life of a couple black snakes and a green snake that, when I attempted to move it with a stick to get it off my driveway, sent me running and squealing when it moved faster than expected.
If there’s any doubt about what kind of snake it is, his days on earth are up as soon as I get my husband.
But the one I encountered in the driveway, I felt I could handle on my own.
I had the safety of my car to ease the fear.
It was at the end of spring, right at the time I start keeping my eye out for the invaders.
The kids were still in school but had an orthodontist appointment that morning. I was running a tad behind but could make it in time as long as everything ran smoothly.
I jumped in the car, backed out of the garage and headed down the drive.
That’s when I noticed it; half in the drive, half in the grass. “A copperhead,” I thought. “Well, you are ‘hissssstory’ bud,” I told him.
I ran over the snake. Expecting a big squishy mess all over the drive, I backed over again. Still no guts.
Thinking I somehow missed it, I proceeded to run over it again. And again. And again for about six times. “He must already be dead somehow,” I thought. So I decided to go down the drive, and turn around so I could see him better.
I pulled up beside him. Took a look. And in my puzzlement, decided to throw something at him to make him move. Out the window went a pen cap. Didn’t work. Next was an empty water bottle. Still nothing.
Finally, I realized it was a fake. Go figure. I’m sure everyone reading this figured it out on the first six run-overs, but not Sandy. Call me gullible. Call me foolish. Call me an idiot. But never call me an un-caring mom ó I was just trying to remove dangers in my kids’ lives.
I grumbled and headed for school to get the kids.
Realizing this had to be a practical joke my son concocted, I called myself an idiot.
After getting the kids from school and heading to the orthodontist, running a little late, I had the mom rampage discussion with Chase.
“I can’t believe you fell for that, Mom,” he laughed.
I was not amused.
And I’m sure the postal lady was not either when Chase tried to catch me off guard again the next day and, instead, got her.
I demanded Chase write an apology note to her as well as put a little something nice in there for her.
It read a little like this: “Dear Postal Lady, I am sorry about the fake snake you found in the mailbox. It was meant for my mom. Here are some Mentos for you. Sincerely, The boy that put the snake in the mailbox.”
She sent a thank-you note back and said she got a good laugh and loved the Mentos, so everything was OK.
She was OK, but the day he tricked me only got better. We arrived at the orthodontist. Rushed in the door, into strange stares by the staff.
“Do you have an emergency appointment,” we’re asked. “No, just a regular one and I know we’re a little late,” I say in a huff.
“We’re closed today,” we’re told. Yes, the appointment was for another day. Imagine that.
After getting the “Bless Your Heart (You’re an Idiot)” look from the staff there and school staff when the kids returned, I called my husband.
He laughed right at the beginning of my story; where I first spotted the snake.
“Chase tried to get me on that last night when I took the trash can down the driveway. But I didn’t fall for it,” he boasted.
“Well, it takes one to know one,” I throw back at him.
And then I said, “Well, thanks to you and your son everyone now knows it only takes one crazy, blonde mom to kill a fake snake.”