Several months ago, Sissy started begging for a hamster.  It seems a friend had brought HER hamster “Peanut” to school for show and tell.  And just like that, Sissy knew what her calling in life was:  to be a hamster owner.  Nothing else would do.  So she shared her dream with us.

"...and they don't eat much, and they're cute, and they can roll around in a little ball, and..."

We said no.

There was wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Hamster fever waxed and waned for some time, with our parental defenses putting down the rebellion at every turn. Then my husband had to go and get clever…

He explained to Sissy that the reason she couldn’t have a hamster is that she had never proven herself responsible enough to care for a pet every day.

“I am, too, responsible!” she insisted.

“Then why don’t you take care of the pet you already have??”  he countered.

Poor Dixie.  She never asked to be thrust into the middle of this struggle…

Dixie. So dignified. So above this whole thing.

So Daddy made a deal with Sissy.  If she would feed Dixie EVERY SINGLE DAY for 30 DAYS, she would have proven herself responsible enough for hamster ownership.  He winked at me while he negotiated this deal.  He negotiates for a living, you know.  And she’s seven.  No way this could blow up in our faces.  We are as likely to see monkeys fly as she is to remember to perform this task for 30 consecutive days.  Poor little seven year old…it’s not even fair, really.

We should have known we were in trouble when we saw the chart in the pantry over Dixie’s bowl.

Uh oh.

Long story short?  We are now the proud owners of a Chinese dwarf hamster named Mario.

Mario. Who doesn't look at all Italian.

He has a little cage filled with pine shavings and tricked out with a fancy exercise wheel and hammock, and a little girl who insists on squeezing his guts out every second that she’s home.  He was glad to see Spring Break come to an end today.  I mean the poor guy went from spending his days in total anonymity in a cage at Petsmart, to a smothering level of affection from a giant snaggle-toothed humanoid.  There’s no doubt he could use a valium.

The moral of this story?  If you’re negotiating with Sissy…bring your A game.  Or get out your wallet and prepare to welcome a rodent into your home.