FCCDFEd
Hero Member
- Sep 29, 2007
- 857
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It was after pizza night Tuesday when my son Greg came up to tell me there was “something very wrong” with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
“He’s just lying on a rock looking sick,” he told me. “DAD! I’m very serious. Can you help?”
So I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed Greg to his room. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
“Honey,” I called, “come look at Greg’s lizard!”
“Oh, my goodness!” my wife said. “She’s having babies!!!”
“What? Wait…” my son demanded. “But their names are Batman and Robin, Mom!”
I was equally outraged. “Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn’t want them to reproduce,” I said to my wife.
“Well Sweetie, what do you suppose me to do, post a sign in their cage?” she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!).
“No, but you were supposed to get two boys Honey!” I reminded her, (in my most loving, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
“Yeah, Batman and Robin!” my son agreed.
“Well, it’s just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me again with the sarcasm!
By now the whole family had gathered in Greg’s room to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
“Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience,” I announced. “We’re about to witness the miracle of birth.”
“Ewwwww, gross!” they shrieked.
“Well, isn’t this just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
“We don’t appear to be making much progress,” I noted.
“It’s breech,” my wife whispered, horrified.
“DAD! Do something!” my son shouted.
“Okay, okay.” Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
“Dad should I call 911?” my eldest daughter Whitney wanted to know “Maybe they could talk us through the trauma” (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
“Let’s get Robin to the vet,” I said grimly.
We drove to t he vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
“Breathe, Robin, please breathe,” he urged.
“I don’t think lizards do Lamaze,” his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for Gosh sake.)
The vet took Robin back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
“What do you think, Doc, a C-section needed?” I suggested scientifically.
“Oh, very interesting, ” he murmured. “Mr. And Mrs. Connor, may I please speak to you privately for a moment?”
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
“Is Robin going to be okay doc?” my wife asked.
“Oh, perfectly,” the vet assured us. “This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn’t EVER going to happen . . . Robin is a boy. You see, Robin is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, t hey um . . . Um . Masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.” He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this. “So, Robin is just . . . Just ….ummm… Excited,” my wife offered.
“Exactly,” the vet replied, very relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my cruel wife started to giggle. And she giggled some more. And then even laugh out loudly.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. “It’s just . . . That . . I’m picturing you pulling on its . its . . teeny little . .” She gasped for more air between laughs once more.
“That’s enough,” I warned her. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
“I know Robin’s really thankful for what you did, Dad,” my son told me.
“Oh, you have NO idea,” my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $100.
One cage: $60
Trip to the vet: $40.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard’s winkie: Priceless.
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs.
“He’s just lying on a rock looking sick,” he told me. “DAD! I’m very serious. Can you help?”
So I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed Greg to his room. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
“Honey,” I called, “come look at Greg’s lizard!”
“Oh, my goodness!” my wife said. “She’s having babies!!!”
“What? Wait…” my son demanded. “But their names are Batman and Robin, Mom!”
I was equally outraged. “Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn’t want them to reproduce,” I said to my wife.
“Well Sweetie, what do you suppose me to do, post a sign in their cage?” she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!).
“No, but you were supposed to get two boys Honey!” I reminded her, (in my most loving, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth).
“Yeah, Batman and Robin!” my son agreed.
“Well, it’s just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,” she informed me again with the sarcasm!
By now the whole family had gathered in Greg’s room to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
“Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience,” I announced. “We’re about to witness the miracle of birth.”
“Ewwwww, gross!” they shrieked.
“Well, isn’t this just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?” my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
“We don’t appear to be making much progress,” I noted.
“It’s breech,” my wife whispered, horrified.
“DAD! Do something!” my son shouted.
“Okay, okay.” Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
“Dad should I call 911?” my eldest daughter Whitney wanted to know “Maybe they could talk us through the trauma” (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
“Let’s get Robin to the vet,” I said grimly.
We drove to t he vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
“Breathe, Robin, please breathe,” he urged.
“I don’t think lizards do Lamaze,” his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for Gosh sake.)
The vet took Robin back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
“What do you think, Doc, a C-section needed?” I suggested scientifically.
“Oh, very interesting, ” he murmured. “Mr. And Mrs. Connor, may I please speak to you privately for a moment?”
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
“Is Robin going to be okay doc?” my wife asked.
“Oh, perfectly,” the vet assured us. “This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn’t EVER going to happen . . . Robin is a boy. You see, Robin is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, t hey um . . . Um . Masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.” He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this. “So, Robin is just . . . Just ….ummm… Excited,” my wife offered.
“Exactly,” the vet replied, very relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my cruel wife started to giggle. And she giggled some more. And then even laugh out loudly.
“What’s so funny?” I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. “It’s just . . . That . . I’m picturing you pulling on its . its . . teeny little . .” She gasped for more air between laughs once more.
“That’s enough,” I warned her. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
“I know Robin’s really thankful for what you did, Dad,” my son told me.
“Oh, you have NO idea,” my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $100.
One cage: $60
Trip to the vet: $40.
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard’s winkie: Priceless.
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs.
