What kind of pet, you might well ask, would be found at the home of a family allergic to fur and feathers, whose only lizards ate each other’s eyeballs (for reals), and who kills fish the second they enter the house?
Well, I’ll tell you. He flew into the house one afternoon when I had the screen door to the deck open for a few minutes. Once he had explored for a while, he settled onto a counter top until dinnertime. During dinner, he introduced himself to us personally, buzzing around our food and attempting to land on the tastiest morsels.
The boys shooed at him, poor little fella, and he came flying right at the adults on the other side of the table. So naturally, SHOO! – and back he went to the kids. We had a great dinner game with our new pet as we laughed hysterically and sent him sailing back and forth to each other, over our food.
“Let’s call him Ping Pong!” I suggested. “He’ll be our new pet!”
The kids love it. Now, instead of screams of, “There’s a fly in the kitchen!!” I hear, “Look, there’s our pet, Ping Pong!” (or “PimPom” as the case may be).
I’ve decided that this is my new standard for being a fun-loving family: the day we can’t make a good time out of having a house fly at the dinner table is the day we have forgotten how to have fun.