Yesterday Baby went on a field trip. Olaf went with because he's that kind of awesomest Dad. They went on a two mile hike on a bike trail in the mountains. Try keeping four 3rd-grade classes on the right side of the yellow line, I can't get my two children, much less 100 kids.
This morning as Baby was getting his jacket on so he could ride his bike to school and withstand the gale force canyon winds without getting frostbite he remembered he had picked up some stuff on the hike.
He unloaded some empty snail shells. We don't live by the beach so the next best thing to collect in the shell world is snail shells. They are quite common here in Utah. Olaf remembers his Grandma cursing them and pouring salt on them when they got in her garden. But for our boys they are fun toys. After work I came home to this funny bump on my "Kitchen Island" corner.
Apparently not all the shells were vacant.
Some were still housing inhabitants. No one's foreclosed on their homes just yet.
Now I'm afraid to walk anywhere else. Baby informed me this morning as he emptied his pockets that snails in their shells can go half an inch a second and if they've shed their homes they are twice as fast.
Who knows where else they've managed to hide in my humble abode. Hopefully they don't evict me.