It was only a dream...

This afternoon, as I sat in my office, minding my own business - working, even - my phone rang.

It was my mother.

She and I had a bit of a tiff last week (Don't get me started on the GM bankruptcy. Please.) and things have been a bit strained. But she was laughing wholeheartedly as she said hello.

Giggling, even.

I knew I was in trouble.

A is at their house visiting, and they went to the beach today. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she'd figured out a way to eke out some horrible revenge upon my household.

I think the woman hates me. With the passionate heat of a thousand suns.

Between the hysterical gasps, I made out only this - "Here, talk to your son."

The phone fumbled on its way to his ear.

"Mom! Guess what!"

Really, could the anticipation get any worse?

I cringed.

"What, baby?"

"We went to the beach, and I brought home a pet!"

This is the point at which I should remind you how difficult it is to render me speechless.

But...yeah.

"A....a pet? Exactly what sort of pet?" There was a knock on my door. It was unbridled panic, looking for an excuse to come in.

He giggled like a four year-old girl. "It's a clam! I named him Sheldon!"

A clam?

"A clam?"

"Yeah, and he's really cute! He's about the size of a quarter. We made him a tank where he can live."

I was already googling "lifespan of freshwater clams" and starting to sweat. I remembered the gerbil, the mice, and the fish tanks. I thought we'd made it past the 'pain in the ass pet' phase of life. I couldn't believe this was happening.

My mother is a crafty wench, it seems.

"So, um, tell me about this tank. How long do you think he'll live?" I pictured a mason jar filled with murky lake water. No oxygen infusion, ammonia levels through the roof....it'll be gone in a matter of hours, right?

"Oh, mom. It's the coolest thing. Grammy and I went on the internet and learned everything we needed to know. His tank has to be the right pH, so I added a few drops of vinegar to the bottled water. He's a filter feeder - do you know what filter feeders are?"

I frowned. "Yes, I know what filter feeders are."

"Okay, just checking. They eat plankton and stuff! But we didn't have plankton, so we found a website that said yeast and baking soda would do just fine. I fed him right away so he wouldn't get hungry."

I refrained from asking if he would like to add a bit of lemon juice and tabasco, because I'm not all about scarring my child for life (unlike MY mom).

"And we're rigging up a motor, so that I can give him a current!"

Okay, so maybe I can't help but scar him just a little. A tiny giggle escaped.

"A current...? With a motor? Like.....in the water?"

"Mom!"

Then it hit me.

"Sheldon? You named him Sheldon?" I got it. Shell. Don. He's a clam. Oh, wow.

"You're going to love him, mom! He's so adorable!"

"I love you, sweetheart. Let's see how Sheldon does over the next few days, and then we'll talk. Okay?"

"Okay. You're the best, Mom!"

Now please excuse me. I have to go buy my mother a rabid wolverine.