Bubblehammerblog

This is a photograph I took of my daughter. She was sitting on the chair in the corner by herself in protest at my refusal to buy her a snake from the petshop I'd taken her to see earlier.

I tried to explained to her that the snake in the shop was just a baby python. He'd have to be fed live mouses for dinner, and when he got bigger he'd want to eat rabbits, cats, or even Hercule, the doggy. Soon, we'd have to move out of the house, because the python's head would be on the kitchen table, while his tail would be upstairs sleeping in her bed.

She didn't believe me, said snakes weren't as big as that, and we could get a snakearium with lights and a little house for him to sleep in. She'd been crayoning pictures of snakes since we got back from the shop, and she took her best one and tore it up, crumpling the pieces and chucking them on the floor.

She said she was going to sit on her own on the chair because she couldn't have a snake, and I was telling lies about pythons. He wouldn't eat Hercule for dinner.

You could have a turtle in a turtlearium, I told her, or a cheese lizard, which is a vegetarian.. But she only wanted that python called Jeremy in the petshop.

When I called for a smile for the photograph she made herself look sadder.

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