Nearly every night, just before bed time we all head out to the bench on the front porch and take a few minutes to hear the crickets, smell a storm coming in, or feel a cool breeze on our cheeks before reading a story and tucking Jack in for the night. Last night, while swinging his legs from the bench and enjoying a final graham cracker or two, Jack spotted three tiny slugs coming up through a crack on the porch.
We all became very interested in their unhurried travels and Jack must have asked a million questions about them.
His last question, "I touch 'em?" was met with a “no” and followed up with a few slug stories.
Everyone has a slug story.
Once, I accidentally stepped on one barefoot and it was one of the grossest things I've ever done.
Paw-Paw regaled us with a classic slug-torture tale involving salt. He said he had seen someone do it and it was horrible.
This led to the discussion of why children, particularly boys torture animals and why some parents don't do much to halt the destruction of the smaller animals like frogs, slugs and turtles because it must not seem to be a big enough deal to them.
But even those tiny amphibians or reptiles or whatever slugs are, are a big deal.
Our household subscribes to the “peace for all creatures” philosophy.
But Paw-Paw's reasoning really put it best:
"Don't let him hurt a slug.
Because first it's slugs.
Then your wife."