Bunny Love

Kiddo #2 was in his seat chatting about the pros and cons of rice cakes when the dog scratched to come in.  She seems to know when the baby is eating and comes from the four corners of the earth to sit under his chair while he philosophizes.  He really gets his arms going when he ruminates, which often blesses the dog with random bits of food. Kiddo #1 continued playing outside.

I grabbed a hot pot off the stove and, like a primadonna, I pirouetted to the sink, bent to grab the strainer in the bottom drawer, and gracefully poured the hot water and noodles into said device. Roses fell from the sky, the baby cooed and I heard Kiddo #1 say, "Momma, how can I get this bunny back to her parents in the creek?"  

The house lights went up and there I was in my kitchen, standing before my daughter who had a baby bunny in the bottom of an otherwise empty Britta water filter jug.  "Oh crap." I exclaimed. Daughter looked up at me and repeated her request as though she knew I wasn't thinking about the answer.

"Where did you find that bunny?  Oh crap. Did you touch it?  Oh crap. Is it still alive? Oh crap. Where did you find that bunny?"

Kiddo #1 said, "It's alive. Of course it's alive Momma. That's why I want to find the parents."

"Well, the parents are probably in the burrow that the baby bunny was in, scared."

"No, they ran away when Rizzo found the baby bunny. They jumped in the creek."

And then, all of a sudden, Kiddo #1 bursts into tears. 

"Mom! Bunnies can't swim! How are we ever going to get this baby bunny back to the mom and dad if they are in the water?" Huge tears are dripping of her chin as she looks up at me expectantly.  What? Oh crap. Oh crap. I'm not ready for this conversation. I'm also not ready to have this discussion while a dead baby bunny is in a Britta water jug, in my kitchen while my pasta is cooling, my baby is chit chatting and my kiddo is bawling her head off. 

I finally look down at the baby bunny in the Britta, this bunny that my daughter has carefully placed in the empty water jug and it's breathing. Breathing. Bunnies die from hopping too fast or seeing something scary on TV. How is this little teeny bunny still alive?

OH CRAP. Now I have an entirely different problem on my hands. Er, in my water filter jug. I call for Husband, who I know isn't home from work yet, but I call out hoping he'll hear me and drive faster, like husbands do in movies.

I look at Daughter. I look at bunny. I look in jug-- the bunny seems to be wet, but there's no blood, no wound, no reason that this bunny should be in this jug. So I start to investigate while inching my way to the back door.

"How did the bunny get in here, Kiddo #1?" 

"I picked it up."

"Was it hopping when you found it?"
"No. Rizzo got it from the nest and I saw her and I said, "Rizzo! Drop it!" and I went over and picked it up."

What? Our Jack Russell Terrier won't give up a ball, let alone prey. How did she get Rizzo to give up  a freaking baby bunny? 

Crap. She for sure touched it. Crap. That's not good.

"Ok, but how did it get wet? Was it wet when Rizzo got it?" I'm watching the little chest move up and down, up and down, while I try to figure out what I'm going to do with this bunny that is wild and whose parents won't get it now because it has human scent on it, while Kiddo #2 is now screaming for dinner.  Kiddo #1's eyes get big. It's like she can read my mind or something because she grabs the jug from me and screams, "NO Momma! You CAN'T put the baby outside if the parents won't come back for it!" 

I hear the garage door go up. Thank heaven, the cavalry arrived.

I tell Kiddo #1 to go get Daddy, but she won't leave my side lest I toss her new bunny friend into a wood chipper, or whatever little kids think their parents do to their things when they're not looking. Baby is crying, but now I've touched both Kiddo #1 and the jug, and I have no idea how that bunny got in there, I don't want to touch the baby or any food for the baby.  Oh, this is quite the gooey mess when Husband finally comes in.

I give him the quick version and he, in his classic way, crouches down and looks at Kiddo #1 in the eyes and says quietly, "Honey. This baby bunny needs to get outside in the shade so her parents can find her. Let's do this together."  He does the same thing to me when I'm a snotty, tear-dripping, blubbering mess. 

Kiddo #1, now quiet and subdued puts her hat on and follows us outside.  On the way to the gate, she explains how Rizzo found the bunny parents under our tree. I look and sure enough, there's a rabbit hole by the base. She says Rizzo then found the baby bunny and brought her out. Kiddo #1 told her to drop it, and picked up the bunny, who was "covered in dirt, a little" and she then took the bunny and "washed her off" in the water table.  Say WHAT?!?  

Now I'm even more impressed with the resilience of this wee bunny.  It lived through being dug up out of its home, being in a dog's mouth, in a toddler's hands, and then a bath? Perhaps this bunny was actually part cat?

We put the bunny outside and leave it be. During dinner Rizzo finds the litter mate and plops it at my feet. I crap my pants, careful not to touch the bunny as I jump up and take Kiddo #1 to the bathroom to "re-wash your hands" while husband takes the second bunny to the shade outside our gate. Rizzo gets a stern talking to and isn't allowed outside without supervision for the rest of the night.

The thing that resonates in my brain, though, is that even though she's four, has never held a bunny before, she was able to wash that baby bunny in her water table without hurting it. Well, without killing it anyways. And I'm amazed that she would think to clean it. And I'm really amazed that she was able to get the bunny out of Rizzo's mouth.  I don't know. I guess this is just one of those times that, before I was a parent, I would have scoffed about it's authenticity.  

Before I had kids, I would never have believed a pre-school youngster could safely handle a wild animal in any capacity without being bit or hurting the animal.  Or that she would put it in the water jug because it's big enough to put the whole bunny in without having to manipulate it to get it in or out.  There was some cool thinking going on there; I never would've thought that all this could happen in 10 minutes while I was inside and Kiddo #1 was in our backyard.  

This must be why parents aren't supposed to let their kids out of eyesight, even for a second. 

Too much amazing stuff can happen while you're not looking. 

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