Snake in the House

So one day, my son accidentally brought a snake into the house. True story. He had a sleepover outside at a friend’s house, and threw his sleeping bag on the floor in the living room. Lauren was probably 5 at the time, and she calmly yelled to me when I was in the other room that there was a snake on the floor. I of course didn’t believe her. I said it was probably just a string or something that looked suspicious, and I didn’t bother to hurry over to see it. I eventually walked into the room and picked up the sleeping bag just in time to see a huge, boa looking sized thick, long black snack slither across my living room like the stuff of nightmares. I don’t know why, but I was a mix of terrified and super angry at the same time. I went from zero to Irish temper in 1.3 seconds. As I screamed in paralyzing fear, I could hear Lauren say, “I told you it was a snake!” Out of the corner of my eye I could see my “sleepover” son jump from the couch by the snake, to the kitchen a good 15 feet away without hitting the floor! He did win a long jump medal at field days one year, and I think he has that snake to thank for inspiration. He hit the ground and took off so fast I didn’t even see which direction he went. I couldn’t look away to see where the kids scattered to because I didn’t want to lose sight of the unsightly thing. I could then hear myself scream to the kids in a voice none of us recognized, “GET BACK OUT HERE!!!!” They didn’t. They just poked their heads around the corner enough to see me with one good eye as they hid in the hallway very far away. They may have been more afraid of me than the snake at that point. I threw the sleeping bag back on it along with the laundry basket that was close by to buy me some time to figure out how in the free world I was going to get that snake out of the house. I instantly regretted our decision to not keep guns in the house while the kids were little. It’s probably a good thing though because aiming my 300-savage rifle at point blank range right through our nice floors was not exactly rational, but rational went out the window the second I saw the speed and size of the snake in comparison to the size of my small children. I remember thinking this could be someone’s pet rattler, I don’t know for sure! I told the kids to get me a golf club, but then I couldn’t visualize how I was going to perfectly balance that thing on it out the door. I then asked them to throw me a jacket and all of the oven mits we own so I could Ove Glove this thing by the back of its neck out the door. It worked. As I picked it up, I yelled quite disproportionately loudly for one of the kids to open the door. I don’t remember which one had run from their hallway hiding spot to duck down behind the kitchen island closer to the action like a soldier in battle, but they bravely popped up from there and ran over to open the closest portal to getting this evil creature outside. I ran screaming with it in my Ove Glove hand through the yard, and my muscle memory kicked in from my old softball days as I launched that thing through the air like I was using it to make the throw from deep in left field to home plate. I then ran back to the house in fear that it could be chasing me like they do in horror movies. I apologized to the kids for losing my mind and thanked them for helping me diffuse the situation I hope to never be in again. After that fiasco, I can tell you from experience that Mamma Bear instincts are a very real thing.