Somehow, the job description of "Mom" never seems to include the large and significant amount of time spent taking care of the non-human species in the family. And I don't just mean the obvious, like filling up the dog's water dish or alerting the child in charge when the litter box is getting a little ripe. I mean dealing with another child's anxiety over leaving several bunnies in their outside hutch during a mild thunderstorm, investigating another rabbit for a possible but unlikely pregnancy after discovering her diligence in making a nest in the indoor hutch, and needing to quick-a-minute rehouse tadpoles before heading off to Great-Grandma's for dinner because they might just be at a crucially sensitive point in their metamorphosis requiring access to dry land to prevent drowning. I have found that there is no "out" here other than being the kind of draconian, zero-pet-tolerance mother I never wanted to be. So here I sit, next to the happily swimming (and not drowning) tadpoles who like to hide behind the rock I found for them this afternoon, rather than sit upon it, breathing the same atmosphere as do I.
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