Apologies about the length. Our PC is not working, and I don't know how to make cuts on the Mac; all the things I know how to do on the PC do not work here.
Sparkle was being a stinker, and refusing to go to bed, running around the house madly, thrashing, stripping out of PJs, and generally being overtired and overstimulated. Trains, dragons, being eaten, snakes & spiders, (the latter two from a Dora the Explorere episode watched earlier) want Mommy Sleep (in bed with me,) water, hungry, gots to go potty, etc.
Out of patience with her, I stuff her back in PJs and plunk her into bed, kiss her, turn out the light (nightlight on) and left.
And the screaming begins. Sparkle flails out of bed, and into the den. I catch her, and put her back in bed, to more incoherent protests. Another flail out of bed, and being put back in. And a third. I finally *snarl* at her that it's past 11:30, and she *will* stay in bed or she'll *find out* just what would happen!
Sparkle scoots to the foot of the bed, wailing. I finally understand a word - "s-s-s-s-NAKE!" That blasted Dora episode! I'm tired of this! I want to go to bed mySELF...
"There *is* no snake; that was just TV!" I snap.
"SNAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!" Sparkle wails.
"There is *NO* snake, and I'll prove it to you!" I say, whipping back the covers on her bed.
Of course, there was, in fact, a snake in her bed. I feel immediately guilty. She actually told me exactly what the issue was, and I was so certain it was her echolalia, repeating dialog from the stupid TV show, I ignored and bullied her when she was in actual fear. Great. And, my darling husband being out of the house, it falls to me to deal with this. Augh!
Bitten from head to tail in many, many places, the dark green snake with two long yellow stripes writhed weakly when I touched it. (Jump back!) It was as long as my arm, with a lump in the middle of it - I think a mouse it had eaten. I think it came in a mouse hole, ate a mouse, and then couldn't leave back the way it came in. The cats clearly had tormented it for a while. No blood, but holes everywhere, though.
Again remembering my inner Steve Irwin, I grab a Barbie and pick up the wretched thing by the tail, and use Barbie's legs like a branch to keep it from raising upwards to bite me. The inside of the snake's mouth was white, no fangs, thankfully. I am aware that I am making girly eeping noises each time it moves or hisses.
I get it to the back door, and put it down to open the door (geeking, geeking, must postpone geeking, not doing a good job of not geeking) and go to pick it back up, go to pick it back up, (c'mon, you did this to get it outta the bed, you can *do* this) child wailing in the background "I'm scared! Mommmmmy...." go to pick it up, yes, pick it up!
I resist the urge to *fling* it out into the yard; it's suffered enough and I'm sure it will die in the cold freezing temperatures outdoors, but it need not be put in unneccessary pain. I tiptoe out into the wet, sleety snow mix (wet socks!) and put it under a bush with its head by a snake hole I'd seen a snake come out of before, and it just lay there. I look at it, expecting I don't know what. I hear Sparkle wailing. I went in. (It was gone this morning, whether down the hole or into something else's belly, I don't know.)
I did not try to put Sparkle back in SnakeBed; she slept with me last night, little arms wrapped around me. She got her MommySleep, and I rather wanted her by me all night anyway. She slept the night through for the first time since before the train, and woke up loving and cheerful.