Under my roof reside four humans, a dog and snake. You read that right. There is a snake in my house that I am not allowed to kill…that we feed…that has a name…that we paid money for…and that lives in my son’s room.
By now you’ve probably guessed that owning a snake was not one of the items on my bucket list. The idea of welcoming a creature into our home that could indeed aid one in kicking the bucket is far from logical to me.
But if I’ve learned anything in 15 years of marriage and in 8 years of parenting, it’s that love defies logic.
Love drives people to do crazy things like selling your sports car, spending a week with in-laws, holding your wife’s purse in public and, in extreme cases, becoming a snake owner.
I never thought the term “snake owner” would be attached to my name. That seemed like a title reserved for crazies like Alice Cooper, Brittany Spears or Jake the Snake. But I am the owner (by association) of a 3-foot long, female Ball Python named Pebbles.
Though I am anti-snake, my eight-year-old son (Alex) loves them. He is enthralled by pretty much all creatures, especially those that are potentially lethal.
Where snakes send chills up my spine, they excite Alex. He’s even caught one (non venomous) in the wild with his bare hands!
After months of me saying “NO” to snake ownership, my wife and I eventually reached an agreement with my son in the Great Snake Debate. We told Alex that if he saved half of the money needed to buy a snake and habitat, we would pay for the other half. In my short-sightedness, I forgot that my wife’s family almost always gives Alex a decent chunk of change for every birthday. And now I am a snake owner.
I don’t pretend to love having a snake in our home. But I do support my son’s interests. I am happy to read books or watch shows about snakes with him. I have taken him to see a herpetologist (reptile scientist) speak. And over the last few summers we have gone repeatedly to a local creek where snakes hang out so we can hunt them.
Love is a powerful motivator. It drives us to put other’s needs and wants above our own. In this case, love overrode my good horse sense and my instincts for self-preservation to the delight of my son. My sacrifice has been his joy.
I have overheard him in conversations with his peers speaking with pride about his reptile. He even works it into conversations with people he’s just met. Being a snake owner is a proud part of his identity, a scaly green badge of courage.
Alex talks about becoming a herpetologist himself someday. I don’t know if that passion will persist in him. Perhaps he will fall off the snake bandwagon one day. But what I do know is that he will be taking his python with him when he moves out of our house. These things live 20-30 years!
I also know that I’ve helped to feed an interest in my son that has developed into a passion. I could have easily snuffed that passion before it ignited. But a little self-sacrifice has kindled his interest and is serving to shape his identity. He is a snake owner and proud of it!