I am now the mother of a snake.
Her name is Murphy and she is a ball python we inherited from a friend. It wasn’t my idea, but when my children said they’d pay for all the equipment and the food and all the care and cleaning will be their responsibility or else we’ll donate the snake to the biology teacher at school, then I gave in. And yes, they did say the same thing about the dog four years ago (except the part about donating him to the school), and they haven’t always held up their end of the deal. But I trusted them anyway because that’s what moms have to do.
Here’s what moms do not have to do: Feed a snake live mice in the bathtub. Thankfully, my children did it themselves. And if you think this is a humble brag, you are correct. I am very proud of the fact that my children are able to feed live mice to a snake in the bathtub. It makes me feel confident that they’d be able to survive the zombie apocalypse, among other things. Here’s slow motion video, which is weirdly satisfying and not unlike the way I eat french fries, tbh.