Mr. Sniffer

It was the week before Easter.

Our very, very good friend, Ben Evans, called my husband.

Now Ben & his beautiful wife, Ashley, have four precious children.

The Evans' oldest daughter's name is Anne-Claire.  (Gorgeous, huh?)  Anne-Claire is 7.  She is so darling and can't fully say her "r's" yet.  Totally grabs my heart every time I hear her speak.

So Ben calls Chris.

Ben:  "Hey, man. Anne-Claire is selling Easter bunnies.  She's so nervous about asking someone to buy one from her.  I told her to call you.  Will you talk to her?"

Chris, for some reason thinking it was a huge, edible chocolate bunny, says:  "Oh, sure!  Put her on the phone!"

Anne-Claire, so incredibly sweetly:  "Mr. Cwis?  This is Anne-Cwaire.  Would you wike to buy an Eastuh wabbit fwom me?"

Chris, his heart melting:  "Oh, you bet, Anne-Claire!  How much is it, honey?"

Anne-Claire: "Twenty dahwas."

Chris:  "Absolutely!  That would be great!  Thank you!"

Ben, back on the phone:  "Great, dude.  Thanks so much.  I'll be up next Saturday to deliver it."

Next Saturday rolls around, and Ben delivers the bunny, all right.

A living, breathing, precious four-week-old gray ball of fur.

Timothy does back-flips of excitement all over the house.  "A rabbit!  A rabbit!  We got a rabbit!"

Chris and I are stunned.

I, for one, do not want a single additional organism to take care of in this house.

Much less one that poops 24/7.

But what do we say to Mr. Backflips?

So Chris first names him "Stew."  Isn't that horrible?  :)

Timothy counters with "Mr. Hopper."

Chris:  "Bullet".  (Gasp!)

The neighborhood kids get in on the christening:  "Mr. Fluffy-Wuffy Pants".

Timothy:  "Mr. Fluffington."

I never knew what to call the little thing.  All I knew was that he was sweet.  Docile.  Let us hold him and love on him.  Came to his crate door and put his feet up on it when I passed by.  Ate out of my hand.

Yup.  He's staying.

And his final name, courtesy of Timothy, is "Mr. Sniffer."

All-righty then.

Hello, Mr. Sniffer.

How could I say "no" to those ears?

Mr. Curious.

He's like a dog.

In fact, he plays with our dogs.  He chases them. 

What a pet.

Thanks, Ben.