Leeches

We spent the July 4th weekend at my in-laws cabin on Spirit Lake, just outside of Vergas, MN What happens in Vergas, stays in Vergas -- with the exception of what Ethan does. (He IS my primary source of blog material).

It was early Sunday morning and I was enjoying my cup of coffee with my in-laws when my brother-in-law, Lon, joins us.

Lon: If you notice anything weird in Ethan's stool - don't worry.

Me: What?

Lon: Weeellll - you might see something really black and strange looking in the next couple of days. Don't panic. It's o.k.

Me: What did he eat?

Lon: A leech.

Me: ARE you KIDDING ME?!

Lon: Oh - it was a rubber leech.

Like that makes it better.

Lon: It was a big one too.

Me: What?! 

Lon: Yeah, I have these great big black rubber leeches in my tackle box. I noticed him playing with them... and next thing I know... he is chewing on something. So I asked him if he we eating one of the leeches.

Me: ...And he said yes.

Lon: No - he said no. Then he said yes.

Me: Oh my God! What is wrong with this kid! He is almost 6-years-old! 

Lon: I think it was the texture that he liked. It is sorta soft and gummy... I think he liked the way it felt.

This reminds me of the time Zach ate dog poop... 

Then my sister-in-law brought up an interesting question.

Lynette: Was it one of the stinky leeches?

Ewwww...

Lon: No. It did not have a scent.

Lynette: Oh good. That would be really gross.

Now we are quantifying grossness. As if it wasn't weird enough he ate a jumbo rubber leech.

Later that day, when we were down by the beach together, I asked Ethan if he ate a rubber leech.

Ethan: Maaayyyybeeee.

Me: Yes or no Ethan.

Ethan: Welll... yes.

Me: Why!?

Ethan: I liked it!

Me: Honey... we don't eat rubber things. That's not good for you.

Ethan: It tasted good. I want to eat it.

Me: Ethan, promise mommy you won't eat rubber things anymore. 

Ethan: (sigh). Fine. I'll try not to.

That's all I can ask.