My granddaughters, Chrissy and Rye, both have pet snakes.

I have to admit, when the two of them proudly announced, “I have a pet snake,” I questioned my daughters’ parenting skills.

“Chrissy, what are you going to do with a snake?”

“He’s my pet.”

I just shook my head.

Well, there went any chance of Grandma coming over for a visit.

I should have seen this coming. Both Rye and Chrissy had also owned pet jumping spiders. Tiny little fellows, each with his own fully stocked terrarium.

One day, Rye took hers out and tried to hand him to me.

I stepped back for a moment.

Wait.

Did that spider just wave at me?

I watched the little guy from a respectful distance, and he was certainly watching me. I figured he was thinking, That old fellow could feed me for a year.

Rye allowed him to walk around on her hand. After a bit, he jumped onto her shoulder.

I swear he kept looking back at me.

The longer I watched him, the more apparent it became that he had a personality. He was curious about his surroundings and perhaps a little leery of the old man keeping one eye on the flyswatter.

After a while, I decided to let him walk onto my hand.

He sat still for a moment, watching and studying. Then he began doing what spiders do. He wandered. He explored.

Rye soon gathered him up and returned him to his terrarium.

I learned something that day.

Life comes in all sizes, and perhaps I had been a little harsh on spiders.

Now, back to Chrissy and the snake.

After learning my lesson with the jumping spider, I figured the snake deserved a chance as a common courtesy.

I was not making any promises.

Chrissy held the snake out toward me. It looked in my direction and extended its neck.

Well, I say neck. The entire creature was a neck.

“Pooh,” Chrissy said.

Yes, Pooh is my grandpa name.

“Pooh, do you want to hold him?”

Inside my head, my brain answered in no uncertain terms.

No.

Then my brain was completely astonished when my mouth said, “Sure.”

The snake was placed across my hand and arm because he was rather long. He looked around, looked at me, and then looked back at Chrissy.

It was obvious he wanted her to take him back.

In a very manly, though slightly higher-pitched voice, I said, “Maybe he would be more comfortable with you.”

Chrissy giggled and took him back.

About that time, her dad, my son-in-law, came home and began talking loudly. The snake tucked his head beneath Chrissy’s arm.

When her dad lowered his voice, the snake slowly came back out and resumed exploring the air and watching the room.

As I talked with Chrissy and Rye about their unusual choice of pets, I kept watching him.

The snake also seemed to have a personality.

He would get frightened and hide. Then, when the noise settled, he would come back out and face the room.

After a while, he stretched his head toward me.

“He wants you again,” Chrissy said.

Once again, my brain began shouting.

No, no, no.

And once again, I held out my hands.

He never moved quickly. He watched me for a moment, then moved across my chest, exploring.

Eventually, he placed his head inside my shirt pocket.

I am sure he was admiring my North Loop Church of Christ blue ink pen.

After satisfying his curiosity, he stretched his head toward Chrissy. Apparently, he had completed his inspection and was ready for a nap.

I learned another lesson that day.

Maybe it was “Do not judge a book by its cover.”

Or perhaps it was simpler than that.

Do not judge a spider or a snake until you have had a little conversation with one, face to face.