Rats, Rats, Rats

The other day I started my training sessions to learn how to handle the rats. The trainer told us to wear old clothes. I just could not for the life of me imagine why. Blood splatter? is all I could think of. Turns out that when rats are freaked out, they pee and pooh, A LOT. Our homework: doing checks (for food, water, and health) every day (no skipping) for the next six weeks. Yay.

Rat number Eight

Because I have to go in everyday to monitor these little guys, sometimes it means that I have to take my babies with me. There are strict rules on the "4th Floor:" you must wear a lab coat at all times and you must wear booties. This is to keep the rat germs contained. It also means that I have to dress my tiny people in big huge lab coats (challenging). I've taken the boys twice and let them handle the rats. They were impressed, said they were "fluffy" (a strange descriptor) and were fascinated with their very large testicles. This precipitated a talk about the differences between boys and girls. I try to discuss girl anatomy whenever I get a chance as I feel responsible for educating my boys about clitori (multiple clitorises?). This was the boys' first time hearing the word "clitoris." I'm definitely going to be the weird mother who brings everything back to "sex talks."