Thom just about ran over an alligator tonight.  As in, with his feet, at the end of a jog.  In his barefoot running shoes.  IN OUR DRIVEWAY.

Did you read that last part?  THERE IS AN ALLIGATOR IN MY DRIVEWAY.

You know you live in Florida when…crappers!

Thom called animal services and wildlife whatevers, both closed.  Finally called 911.  The verdict is: they won’t come out if the gator is under 4 feet long.  And ours is about 3-4 feet.  IN OUR DRIVEWAY.

It’s since scurried into the bush IN OUR YARD and Thom is out there trying to chase it out with a long pole and flashlight.  Awesome.  911 told us the gator will just find the waters from which it came.  Are we comfortable with that people? (no.)

I just hope it doesn’t find my toes as I shuffle my 4 kids to the car tomorrow.  Or eat one of them, the kids that is.  I don’t think any of my kids are over 4 feet tall.  The alligator has the advantage for sure!  I worked so hard for each and every one of those boys.

I don’t need a lot of reasons to move out of Florida, but THERE’S AN ALLIGATOR IN MY DRIVEWAY totally wins.  WINNER!

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