On Tubs an Turtles

Have you ever made a choice that spiraled out of control and soon found yourself in a situation that you weren't sure how you got into? I have. Often. That's how I ended up with a turtle in my bathtub.
It started out innocently enough. We homeschool our kids and they take band at the local public school. Usually they ride their bikes to and fro, but on this particular day there was thunder and lightening in the sky. I was on my way back through the melee to pick up my seventh grader when I noticed a turtle trying to cross the street in front of the middle school. My stomach clenched up and I began to worry that the poor little guy wouldn't make it safely across. ( Here I should explain that this has always been a particular mental illness of mine. I once stood in the middle of the road to protect a half smushed possum from becoming a fully smushed possum while waiting for 911 to arrive. I kid you not. And wouldn't you know the darn thing wasn't even grateful. It just hissed and spat at me the whole time.) And so it was that I found myself anxiously awaiting the release of my son from class so that he could move the poor turtle. Yes, I know that I could have moved it myself, but I had already touched a frog and a catfish and that was my yearly limit.
My son was more than happy to move the turtle, but once we found it he wanted to bring it home. No, I said, we don't need a turtle. Just to show it to my brothers. he said, then I will let it go. I agreed. I am a sucker. Five pairs of pleading, big, blue eyes gazing at me turn me into a complete idiot. We learned that this particular turtle is the fastest turtle on earth, that he loves to have his head stroked, and that he doesn't like worms. We named him Shel and he started to live under a laundry basket in my living room. When dad came home that evening, things escalated. Within 24 hours he was eating my expensive apples, riding in a bucket to cub scouts, and, yes, even bathing in my bathtub. We spent half of our next school day trying to identify him (he's a three toed box turtle), and searching the house for him when he escaped from under the basket. He gets walked more then the dog.
And so it is that I find myself ready for my morning shower, but unable to take it because there is a turtle in the tub. And since I don't touch turtles, I am wandering my home until one of the people in my family who does touch turtles wakes up. And then comes the Clorox shower cleaner. Ahhh, the things we do for love.