Here Be Dragons

At an impromptu picnic in the park this weekend (gorgeous weather here, by the way), we happened upon the end of a Dragon Themed birthday party. The birthday boy and his cousin were still in attendance and happily showed off the the real guests of honor — a set of Bearded Dragons — to my raptly attentive boys. I was amused to hear birthday boy’s cousin explaining that he earned the right to hold one of the lizards due to his close blood relation to the primary celebrant, tacitly warning my brood not to get their hopes up for anything beyond an “eyes only” encounter. Meanwhile, the dad and Jason discussed the finer points of keeping said lizards, and uncovered the surprising fact that baby food is a staple in their diet and runs cheaper than the 12 to 15 daily crickets required to sustain a good sized dragon. Who knew? Reluctantly, we bade them farewell, and continued with our picnic and play-time.

The Coveted Bearded Dragon

On the way home, a raucous lobby broke out in favor gifting Jack with a bearded dragon on his 6th birthday (only five months away — no sense letting it creep up, right?). Although I was proud of the triplets for realizing the innate futility in posing the request on their own account — instead, immediately throwing their lot in with their older brother as the most likely route to success — I assumed my longstanding ban on any and all creatures in possession of a cloaca would remain unchallenged. So I kept mum and left it up to Jason to put paid to this particular line of thought. Presumably to quiet the rabble, Jason averred that, indeed, Jack could have a bearded dragon for his birthday if he still wanted one when February rolled around.

I cocked an eyebrow in Jason’s direction, only to find myself being studiously ignored.

“I think someone needs to be ol-der,” I singsonged quietly.

“I’m already thir-ty-SEV-en,” Jason instantly sang back.

Once I managed to stop laughing, I decided I might just let him…um, I mean Jack…get a nasty lizard after all.