Posted by: Joelle Burnette | May 3, 2013

The Sea Monkey alien monster that ate mommy’s brain

Sea Monkey monster eats mommy's brainSo, how big do Sea Monkeys grow? A friend gave a Sea Monkey kit to my daughter for her birthday, but Sophie and her girls tore into the box and dumped the contents into the small tank before they knew what to do.

When all else fails, read the directions. At least, that’s what my favorite science teacher Mr. Manganello used to remind us when I was in middle school. But try telling that to a tween surrounded by a group of rowdy flibbertigibbets high on birthday cake, candy and Katy Perry videos.

It would have helped if my husband hadn’t tossed out the box and contents…including the directions. But whereas my OCD requires I hang onto boxes and bags for as long as possible before my husband and children discover my secret stashes and toss them out (as I hop about through anxiety coupled with the knowledge I must eliminate these strange obsessions from my life and cluttered home), my husband tries to sneak these items out of the house before I see them. Ahhh. I know. A fucking long sentence. Had to be done. (And what? Did you think I could get through a post without tossing out at least one “F” bomb? Shit…there’s probably some FBI internet scanner that picked up that scary key word. Crap, and now I said shit. Okay, so I’ll never get an interview with the queen.)

Thus, neither did we have the slightest clue about how long it should take for the creatures to grow, nor how many of the little buggers we should expect.

My daughter had set up the tank in the kitchen window above the sink so our entire family could watch the creatures grow. But after a few days with only a bunch of spotty, stick things floating in the tank, I nearly tossed out the contents when something began swimming. Being first to spot the critter, I got more excited than a grown woman should. As well, I noticed another tiny something swimming around. Unfortunately for the little guy, following in the career of big fish and little fish, the teeny-tiny swimming thingy disappeared by the next day and Darwin won again.

I couldn’t wait for my daughter to get home from school so I could show her the creature, but alas, she would have to wait until she returned from a sleepover at a friend’s house.

So now, this fittest Sea Monkey has already shed some alien skin and is growing bigger and bigger. In my what-if writer’s brain (no longer dulled by the influence of Zoloft), I have visions of my children arriving home from school one afternoon to find a crime scene in the kitchen. My computer is going to be dripping with tank water and I’m going to be sprawled out on the tiles with my head buried in this Sea Monkey monster’s mouth as it is sucking out my brain. My kids will jump and squeal when my foot twitches and the Sea Monkey looks up at them and growls before it scutters toward them like something out of “Alien.”

Wow. Yes, that’s where my mind goes at night.

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