A lizard.
Now, I have never held a lizard in my life. Even though my brothers had a sport of catching them. They would beg me to hold one, just once. They would say, "See, they don't bite hard" while putting their finger into it's open mouth and letting it bite them. (Reminds me of how I have never put my tongue on the top of a battery either - though they used to beg me to do that too)
So, he begs me to push the basket closer to where the lizard is hanging out on a sign. I keep saying, "Oh please don't touch it." I even tell him they bite. He says to me, "Mama, don't say that - I have to touch him." He kept reaching out with that still slightly chubby hand - trying to get its tail. He would squeal out, "He's looking at me!" I'm like, "Yeah, I feel it. And he better not jump out at me!"
He began insisting more and more that he had to hold it. So I called his dad over.
I couldn't watch, and walked away for a while. I come back to this.
He carried it like that - the whole time in the store, and on the way home, until his Daddy put him in a jar with a branch and some water.
I say - "Let him loose." But Joshua now adores it. Yuck.
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