Diary of a Disney Princess

A week ago my seventeen year old son found a baby squirrel licking water off the driveway beneath his car. My son tried to lure the squirrel out, as he needed to drive to work and didn’t want to run over a baby animal. My sixteen year old son then took over, tempting the furry baby away from danger with the delight of a spoonful of peanut butter. Our new four footed friend quickly came running for an easy breakfast. With squirrel safety insured, my older son drove away to work.

My younger son started getting close enough to pet the baby squirrel that he quickly christened, “Squishy.” I told my son that his name choice wasn’t good, as it was foreboding. Reminded me of soon-to-be-roadkill. My son was steadfast on his name choice, and so ‘Squishy’ began to make a dent on my heart. A few moments later, we learned that Squishy had a brother hiding nearby – but this fur baby was more cautious of teenaged boys and wasn’t going to be so easily tempted by a free breakfast.

One of my adult sons wrote to me and said, “Name the cautious one Squilliam.” With the squirrel brothers both named, I became a fully invested human. My inner five year old girl wanted to pet a baby squirrel too, even though my adult self said it was probably not going to happen. Squirrels are plentiful in my region, but naturally skittish, and wary of human company.

My seventeen year old son messaged me from work and reminded me that there had been a dead squirrel in the road directly in front of the tree near his car, the day prior to Squishy and Squilliam’s unusual appearance. Squirrels are numerous in my area, so a dead squirrel doesn’t normally merit a lot of attention, as it’s commonplace they are struck by cars.

A solid hour crept by with no signs of a mama squirrel to retrieve her babies. I became resigned to the fact that Squishy and Squilliam were likely orphans. My sixteen year old son and I walked out into our driveway and Squishy was literally waiting for us, darting in and out of our feet.

In that moment, I did what any Disney Princess would do. I picked Squishy up and began talking to him. He gave me a weak bite and I perceived he was looking for seconds on breakfast. Another plateful of peanut butter, with a side of water was rapidly inhaled. Squishy literally jumped into the peanut butter, covering all four paws in sugary stickiness. Squishy’s enthusiasm for his food made my Disney Princess fondness of him grow stronger.

With a full belly, Squishy began looking to do what most full tummied babies do – nap. He began to climb into the collar of my dress, trying to find a quiet nest. After removing him several times from his would be home, Squishy then decided that my long hair was a fabulous place to settle in and sleep. I was delighted to let Squishy settle in for a nap on my shoulder.

Like a true Disney Princess, I’d foolishly given Squishy anthropomorphism – human characteristics – a name, a tragic backstory, an age, an appetite, a friendly nature. If I didn’t have kids, cats and a dog, I’d be writing you a very different story of, “How I became a Squirrel mom.” My husband assures me that he was prepared to put his foot down and not allow Squishy a permanent home in his wife’s hair. I am assigning my husband Disney Villain status for the purposes of this story.

Delighted by Squishy’s napping on my shoulder, I sent a photo of him to my best friend, who raced across town to share in my Disney Princess moment. My best friend is wiser than me, in every possible way, which is why she’s my best friend. Squishy needed a Disney style Fairy Godmother, and he had it in my best friend. I selfishly didn’t want to give him up. I wanted the fantasy to continue, one in where I’d wake up a Disney Princess and call for Squishy and he’d dutifully come to me, a mutual affection continuing for years.

My friend reminded me that Squishy was far more likely to be eaten by a predator – as he was a helpless baby, or he would live up to his ill fated name and become roadkill. With the help of two of my daughters, Squishy and Squilliam were delivered by my best friend to a local animal rehabilitation center, where they will be safe and then released when they are strong enough to survive independently.

As all good fairy godmothers do, my best friend dispensed a pearl of wisdom before departing. She reminded me that when Jesus returns to Earth, as promised, that nature will be transformed. Man and beast will live together in perfect peace.

“The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb,
The leopard shall lie down with the young goat,
The calf and the young lion and the fatling together;
And a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze;
Their young ones shall lie down together;
And the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play by the cobra’s hole,
And the weaned child shall put his hand in the viper’s den.
They shall not hurt nor destroy in all My holy mountain,
For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD
As the waters cover the sea.” Isaiah 11: 6 -9.

When Jesus returns – I’ll get to have the perfect Disney Princess moment. We all will. For now, I’m left scratching the flea bites that Squishy left on my chest. Lessons learned; my husband is not a Disney Villain after all, it’s vital to have a best friend/ Fairy Godmother on speed dial, and if you want to be a Disney Princess before the return of Jesus, you better wear bug spray.

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