Yesterday I came home from a walk and found this:
Now say this in your best Wisconsin accent: "Hold her still there Pops, I'll just be a sec here adjusting this spoke."
Apparently there was a REALLY bad diaper rash and The Dad felt that "airing it out" was the best approach. And as if that wasn't shocking enough ...
I went inside to cook a delicious, healthy, & low-fat meal, came back out, and found this:
A little dirt never hurt anybody, right? (This is your cue to say, "RIGHT" very emphatically and then wink at your significant other. Don't you think that I have already had the good sense to google, "diseases caught from eating dirt" and know good and well about pinworms?)
It is 9:05 p.m. right now and even though I put him down an hour ago, The Goose is up there in his bed talking and singing. As far as I can tell, he is about halfway through "Old MacDonald" (as evidenced by the ee-eye-ee-eye-oh) and has, by the light of his monitor, been looking at the clock (as evidenced by the "tee-tock, tee-tock"). I'm guessing he's probably also taken off his socks and possibly even his diaper, but since he's got that rash still, I can justify my failure to go and check on the situation.
ION ...
Tomorrow is a holiday and The Goose & I couldn't be happier for a day off. This was one of those weeks where I have looked at my fingernails approximately 27 times and thought, "Maybe I'll paint them tonight," only to sack out on the couch before 9:00 p.m. Under a pile of laundry. I used to be so OCD about things. Now I don't even color-code my dayplanner or circle the typos I find in novels.
And speaking of OCD ... the other day I found more evidence that we have a little Type A on our hands:
This lovely wooden object is a potato bin (note the sprouting potatoes inside) and on top of it, parked in a perfectly symmetrical diagonal row, are the "J," "H," and "N" letters of a magnetic train set that Nana & Grampy brought several months ago (we do still have the "O," but unfortunately the wheels keep popping off due to reckless driving and one too many "hopping the tracks" scenarios and anyway they are choking hazards, so it had to be banished to the top of the fridge). If you'll remember correctly, he also parks his trucks in a similar fashion on the back of a chair in the living room. It's all very neat and orderly you see ... trains in one room, trucks in the other.
The other proof I have of his likeness to me thus far is his meticulous habit of bringing me all unwanted yet previously chewed food items. One time ... ONE time ... I told him to please not leave chewed-up apple peal on the carpet but to please give it to mama instead, and as a result I am bestowed with all sorts of discounted food items. Of particular disregard are the hulls in oatmeal (and all the other mixed-in ingredients), fruit skins of any type, and the last bite of the bottom of bananas -- you know, the part that has the yucky brown vein thingy. I mean really, who DOES eat that part? Today he and I made it halfway through a box of Garden Veggie Snackin' Crackers before I thought to examine the sodium content. Let's not tell The Dad (or The Nana) about that one, shall we? He didn't spit any of those out, but he did carry one around for at least half an hour while we jammed out to Laurie Berkner.
If y'all know anybody who has toddlers and doesn't know about Laurie, then berate them openly. You can see all of her stuff at www.twotomatoes.com. Our newest CD has songs about chickens and airplanes and doodlebugs and seriously, if I knew where she lived then I would go shoot out her tires because these songs keep me up at night. She's got this round all about what you eat at Thanksgiving and The Goose loves it and demands that it be set on "repeat" in the car and all night I'm like, "turkey with stuffing and cran-berr-ies ... sweet potatoes and corn and peas ... when I'm done my tummy's so full ... down I lie ... but before you can count to 1-2-3, I'm up for the pumpkin pie!" All night, people. The doodlebugs song is about these flyin' doodlebugs with the same names as all the Seinfeld characters. What is it about children's music that won't just leave me alone??? I really have a problem. I heard once that if you sing "The Girl from Eepanema (I realize that that is the wrong spelling, but it's the closest phonetical approximation I could make at this hour) that it would clear your mind of all other tunes. So all night I'm alternating between doodlebugs named Kramer and that Eepanama stuff. It's killing me.
The Dad just came home from leading a night hike and announced that they heard frogs and toads, beaver tails slapping the water, and four barred owls (which he called in -- he's been honing his owl-calling abilities). They pay him to do this. All day I'm explaining the proximity rule in subject verb agreement with double subjects joined by correlative conjunctions all while he's out there hooting. And then both of us come home and spend countless hours raising and cleaning up after that Goose.
And as if that weren't enough, in addition to a Goose, we still have a couple chickens to keep up with. The other day while JEB was napping and The Dad and I were both home from work (at the same time!!!), I heard a commotion in the backyard and woke B up from a nap to go and check it out. I would’ve gone myself, but it is the season of wasps, bees, and other predators which I simply cannot abide, and my spheksophobia often confines me to the house. So The Dad dutifully went out to investigate and this was the report from the only eyewitness: "I saw a chicken going one way and a wasp going another." Meanwhile, I was in the coop checking the laying box to see if a raccoon was camped out waiting for nightfall. It's all so exciting, this life of ours. And frankly that whole story was just a good lead-in for this, the PHOTO OF THE WEEK, which I'll leave you with:
Nekkid Chicken Chasin' in the front yard. It just don't get any better than this.
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