My nephews love snails. They love all creepy, crawly or slithering things. At the beginning of the summer they found a snail on my deck and played with him (probably) to death. I convinced them to put him to bed in a plant and later he was gone. (Maybe he wasn’t dead after all!)
Fast forward to September. While watering the dog my younger nephew found a snail shell. He told me, “Look! Snaily!” He played with that shell and I think even took it home.
Fast forward to October. Today while wandering in the woods behind the park the boys found another Snaily. They had me babysit him until we went home. (He stayed in my pocket.) Then they took turns holding the snail while eating lunch and watching Blippi.
Well… My younger nephew just spilled a drink all over my couch. In the chaos Snaily was misplaced. I have cleaned up the space without any sign of Snaily.
There is now a poor little snail wandering around in my house. It could be worse. He could be a spider. Or a roach. Or a scorpion. But I am not loving the idea of sitting down and smashing the poor Snail. Or waking up to him on my face. Hypotheticals that likely won’t happen. But I’d still prefer to know Snaily’s whereabouts.
Redheaded Jill 
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