Imagine my surprise to come out of Ella’s room to find you staring back at me. I thought you were a snake at first, so I hope you didn’t take offense when I wished that you’d slither back to your hole. I called my husband to complain about you only to find out he was a few minutes from home. I had to work quickly to catch you so sorry about the numerous cups, paper funnels and other fashioned devices I had to use for my purposes. I know now that you are much speedier than I first estimated. I will be ready for you next time.
Isaac enjoyed me running into his room at full battle cry when you scampered under his door. By the way, that was the first nap he had taken in a week, so I don’t appreciate you tricking me into waking him. I refuse to believe that Isaac was frightened by me letting out scared little screams as I tried to capture you, so I blame you for any psychological damage that will result from the attempts. Running under his bed was a nice move. Bet you didn’t know I could call upon super human strength to hurl the bed across the room to get to you, did you?
The past 24 hours that have passed since I discovered you have been interesting. I live in constant fear, thanks to you. Every light switch for which I reach, blanket I pick up, and step I take is riddled with anxiety that you will be lurking underneath. Isaac however, seems invigorated with our random “lizard hunting.” He wields the flashlight with all the skill of a college student on a weekend bender. He excitedly insists that lizards “could be anywhere!” Ella’s diapers, the neighbor’s drive way, and up his nose are the most highly suspected lizard hideouts. Ella slept better last night and if you had anything to do with it then, congratulations, you are finally earning your keep.
Some people have joked you will become our pet. I have no clue how to take care of a lizard. I just learned how to take care of children and you can ask them how that’s been working out. Unless you want to become a Seeing Eye Lizard for the Blind I suggest you stay clear of me. You will have to take care of yourself, but listen up Lizard, there will be no sharing of resources in this house. That Ben and Jerry’s S’more ice cream in the freezer is mine! Just ask my husband what happens to those who try to force me to share… Oh wait, never mind, I just read on Google you eat spiders and other bugs. You can help yourself to as many of those you wish to consume. We have plenty. I also read that you like dry climates and so excuse me a minute while I go remove the trap I have set for you in the bathtub.
Let’s cut to the chase, lizard. I want you gone. I realize that you have little opportunity to accomplish this goal, so I will make you a deal. I will agree to leave the sliding glass door open for a small amount of time in the mornings. Don’t let the screen door hit you on the way out. Please do not abuse my generosity by inviting in all your other free-loading lazy lizard friends. I hope you realize I could just as easily order your execution without trial.
Now who’s afraid?
P.S. I have friends that believe “take care” at the end of a letter is the equivalent of saying “I hope I don’t see you again” but nicer. It is pretty much the literary version of a middle finger. I’ll let you ponder that one when you are a safe distance doing your lizard tongue thing on some rock, miles away from my home.