It's about Sea Monkeys. Yes, I said Sea Monkeys.
When I was a kid they were all the rage and for whatever reason Mom said no. She let us get those magic crystals you could grow in a fish bowl - which were cool and all - but they were no Sea Monkeys.
Last Thursday night Pops took my husband, my son, nephew and me to see Clash of the Titans and while we were at the show Mom took my daughters and niece to Walmart to let them get a treat. My youngest child got Sea Monkeys. My mother bought my child Sea Monkeys! My mother is the quintessential grandparent, giving the grandchildren all the things she deemed too messy, expensive or labor-intensive when she herself was a parent. And ice cream whenever they want. Like before dinner.
Like I have time to raise a bunch of dang mutant brine shrimp. I have Facebook and Twitter and blogs to keep up with, people! There is no room on my plate for shrimp. Well, only if there's cocktail sauce....
But I allowed the Sea Monkeys to come home because really, Kady was as excited about her new critters as Ellie Mae Clampett would be about a new raccoon, so I thought I would take you on an adventure under the sea with us. Okay, an adventure in a 12-ounce plastic container.