The trouble with kids and abstract concepts

When discussing abstract concepts, I've long known that my kids have trouble with time, distance, and size. However, the older ones seem to be getting a better handle on these things.

I mistakenly gave my youngest son the benefit of the doubt when he came home one day announcing that he wanted to take one of the classroom pets, a ball python, home for the weekend. There are three classroom snakes, but he only likes the smallest one.

My I-don't-think-so face firmly glued on, I raised an eyebrow. "How small is small?"

Sean quickly held out his hands about eighteen inches apart. "It's pretty small. The others are huge and can wrap completely around my waist and up my arm."

I bit my tongue at asking how he knew that. My face faltered. I could handle an eighteen inch snake, even if it turned out to be closer to two feet. Plus, Sean's been doing pretty well behavior-wise this school year. "Okay. I'll write a note saying you can take him home this weekend."

"It's a girl, mom. Her name is Petals."

Petals...for a snake? I shrugged.

This afternoon I pulled up in front of the school to pick up Sean and Petals for the weekend. My mouth fell open when I stopped in front of Sean, who held a large glass tank containing a snake at least four feet long. I quickly rolled down the passenger window. "You said you were bringing home the smallest snake!"

The two teachers helping him laughed. "This is the smallest snake."

Before I could tell them to wait, the back door opened and they slid the tank in.

I eyed the snake as it's head rose up against the lid of the tank. "Where's the lock for the lid? And the key, which preferably stays here at school."

The teachers kept laughing, a bit too much if you ask me. "The lid is latched on, don't worry." The one teacher backed up and waved. "Have a fun weekend!"

I swallowed my reply as Sean slipped inside the other car door.

Here is a picture of Petals, who, according to my son, is only about eighteen inches long: