While visiting my best bud, Lauren, on vacation in Marco Island last weekend, we stopped into one of those beach shops. You know the ones. Neon t-shirts, shot glasses, boogie boards and hermit crabs.
Grady:Mom! Can we get hermit crabs? Please? Please? Please? I’ll be so good. I promise!
Me: No. I asked the lady that works here and she said they can’t survive long car rides so it would die on the way home.
Grady: Oh man!
Me: I know. I’m so sorry.
Later that evening, the kids and I were facetiming with Jason (who was back home).
Grady: Mommy was going to buy me a hermit crab but they can’t live on long car rides so she said we have to wait and try to find one in Miami.
The next day we drive home to Miami. What is waiting for the kids on the kitchen counter? Two hermit crabs.
Jason is a rockstar daddy for surprising the kids like that. But I cannot lie… I was hugely disappointed by his kindness.
These hermit crabs stink. In every way possible.
Grady named his crab John.
Annie Bea named her crab Annie… then Ham Sandwich… then Charla… then Tonya.
Anyway, we are not at all proud to announce the newest members of our family. John and Tonya Levine. They are residing in the backyard until death do us part. And trust me, we googled how long we have until death does us part. Guess what? Hermit crabs live for 30 fucking years.