When I was 8 years old, my parents took me on vacation to meet my grandparents for the first time. Their home was located high in the mountains near Lake Tahoe, Calif. Just before we arrived, my mom warned me to be careful playing in the forest around their house, as there might be rattlesnakes in the area.

"Rattlesnakes!" I replied. "If there are rattlesnakes, I'm not getting out of the car!" I hated snakes of any kind, and especially the kind with fangs and rattles.

"You'll be all right," Mom said, trying to comfort me. "Just watch where you're playing, and don't reach into any holes in the ground or underneath rocks."

"No way!" I answered as we drove up to the house.

I got out of the car with my hands in my pockets and, watching every step I took, walked up the gravel driveway, staying close to my parents. My grandma met us at the front door and gave me a big hug and kiss. "Your grandpa's out back chopping wood," she said. "Why don't you go surprise him?"

"Well... er... a... I can wait until he's finished," I said nervously, not wanting to leave the safety of my parents' sides.

Noticing my uneasiness, Grandma asked, "What's wrong, Patrick? Don't you want to meet your grandpa?"

"Oh, he's afraid of snakes," Mom replied.

"Well, don't worry about any snakes in our yard," Grandma said. "Our old dog, Tiger, keeps them away. Furthermore, I haven't seen a snake around here in years."

"Don't be a fraidy-cat," Dad said, somewhat displeased with me. "Go meet your grandpa."

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Reluctantly I slowly and cautiously walked around to the back of the house, where I saw my grandpa busily chopping wood for the fireplace. Seeing me, he smiled broadly and said, "Hello there; you must be Patrick."

"Hi, Grandpa," I replied, still watching for snakes.

"Come here and give me a hug!" he exclaimed, putting down his ax and holding his arms outstretched.