This morning I found our pet turtle, Mr. Turtle, ensnared inside an old slinky, the kind made of metal.  We played with the slinky the other night while toying with the idea of parenthood. Naturally it coiled and kinked around itself and there it lay like a trap. I used to be in charge of Mr. Turtle’s upkeep but once I got pregnant, my significant other, my partner, took over the task just to be on the safe side. Not that I’m implying anything by this, but, when I was in charge, Mr. Turtle stayed put.