I try to avoid trendy catch phrases like my title.

For a few reasons.

For one, I have kids, and they just don’t let you get away with that kinda stuff. The amount of eye rolling and uncomfortable looks that they give me following such a phrase cannot be good for their little eyeballs. So I avoid uttering them for the benefit of their visual heath.

And number two, I am a pasty white, red-haired, freckled, 30-something year old mom of four, I really can’t pull it off.

But it was a cute title to go with my pic today.

That is a turtle we found in my side yard. Hello? IN MY YARD! PEOPLE? Are you listening? That snapping turtle (being held up by my animal lovin Pa.) could bite off a toe! Or a finger! Or somehow creep through my pipes and climb out of my toilet where it might chomp a Neff tushie!

We can’t have that folks. Not here. Not ever.

There was many plans for Ol’ Snapper.

1. Crush him with Chuckie’s excavator. (This was Chuckie’s first pick.)

2. Bury him alive under a dirt bike jump, then name the jump, “Turtle Jump”. (This was Chuckie’s second choice.)

3. Gentle transport of God’s precious creature to a lover-ly little pond or lake far from here.(And my hiney.)

Now, all you who know my husband can guess what happened.

But my Dad intervened. (I told you he was an animal lover.) Ol’ Snapper was given a ride to an undisclosed location. Where he can grow to an even more frightening and limb threatening size.

And because of him the Neff family took the high road and did not contribute to animal violence.

This week.