The Continuing Story of Tommy and the "Nake

So by now, Tommy has checked under every rock, log, shoe and toy on our twelve acres, and can't seem to find another snake.  Undaunted, he has switched his loyalties to worms, because after all, they are a lot like snakes when you are three years old.  So now, he's digging, and has quite a collection in an old canning jar.  He kept complaining that I had given him "baby lars (jars) ".  At first, I though he meant baby FOOD jars, and I knew I hadn't done that.  But then I realized what he meant was the fact I had banned him and his brother from confiscating my large mouth canning jars, which we use for glasses, and had given them the small mouth jars.  It's harder to get your hand down in those, but little hands can still do it, as long as they don't make a fist.

So today, here comes Tommy while, once again, I'm hanging clothes on the line - an absolutely never ending job...Here's a picture of my third load today, meaning I've already taken down the length of this close line twice  in one morning and reloaded it yet again.  If you are my friend on face book, you will have seen my update when Angel-Leah told me my "laundry pile needed some attention."  She didn't seem to realize that my laundry pile needed attention because I had been painting HER room for two days...

Okay, that's a messy looking picture for you...

But that's where I was standing when Tommy came over to talk boy talk again, i.e., bugs and snakes.  He had three or four worms in a jar, and was telling me all about them, assuring me that they were NOT going to die this time.  Suddenly, a light bulb appeared over my head, and I thought, "teachable moment."
"Tommy," I said, "I know how to keep your worms alive.  We need to compost.  Worms need water and dirt, so you need to put some in your jar."  Well, if there's anything boys love as much as worms, it's dirt, and Tommy headed off to find it.   In a few minutes, he was back, with a jar filled with more water than dirt.  That wouldn't work.
So I left my clothesline, and told Tommy that maybe some hay would be a good idea.  He could put in a little hay and some dirt, and his worms would have babies and turn this mess into good dirt.  That's composting, I explained, but Tommy's mind stopped at the idea that his worms would have babies.

So he and I head for one of my animal cages, and we filled his jar with dirt and hay:

Now Tommy has his own compost "bin".  He's VERY happy with this idea (the worms having babies part, not the compost part).

Knowing I had solved the problem of keeping the worms alive, dependent, of course, on Tommy's keeping them wet but not drowned, and keeping his jar out of the sun, I finished hanging clothes, and went on to other chores.

As I walked down to the barn later that day, Tommy fell in step beside me.
"Mommy!"  he said excitedly.  "I wanna a new pet!  I wanna a rat, okay?"
"NO!"  I said, rather loudly.  "Snakes and nasty worms are bad enough, but I draw the line at rats.  No rats!" 
"Please, mommy?"
I began to walk quite fast.  In fact, I think I was running.  But if there's one thing I've learned, whether you are running towards them or away from them, 56 year old ladies can never outrun three year old boys...

"Dust a lil one??"

Oh, HELP....