Great, I think to myself. What kind of disgusting creature did he find down there now?
I start to reach for a paper towel, when he proudly shows me his prized slug—and it really is a slug—which he is holding in his hands. Which he found. In. Our. Basement. Gross.
He adores the darn thing! "I'm going to call him Slimy!" he says. Yuck.