Last week I was greeted at school pick-up with "Mom! I have a squid!" Half unsure of what I'd heard and half completely aware that with Trey, I probably heard right, I questioned his comment. Sure enough, his class had studied the squid and at the end Trey asked if he could have it. I guess there weren't any possible complications that crossed his teacher's mind when she bagged the thing up and packed it in his backpack.
The kid came home like he'd just found gold. I couldn't get rid of it, aside from the fact I'm not really sure how to dispose of a squid carcass. He had already named it, "
Squidie". Darling, I know. We now had a dead squid, in a baggie, in my kitchen. I quickly googled "preserving a squid" (never saw that search coming) and Bailey and I ran out to get the necessary supplies.
Squidie now sits in a mason jar filled with 91% alcohol on a shelf in Trey's room (details provided should you ever need to preserve a squid- apparently it's a realistic possibility).
The kid came home like he'd just found gold. I couldn't get rid of it, aside from the fact I'm not really sure how to dispose of a squid carcass. He had already named it, "Squidie". Darling, I know. We now had a dead squid, in a baggie, in my kitchen. I quickly googled "preserving a squid" (never saw that search coming) and Bailey and I ran out to get the necessary supplies. Squidie now sits in a mason jar filled with 91% alcohol on a shelf in Trey's room (details provided should you ever need to preserve a squid- apparently it's a realistic possibility).
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