Chicken Joy

Take two toddlers, add two parents, plus one promise of seeing cows on a drive and after nearly 3 hours of aimless, cowless driving the result is – CHICKENS!

With Noah’s 3rd birthday fast approaching we needed to get some supplies for my attempt at a cake too ridiculously ornate for a 3 year old to actually appreciate, but just right for a mother who likes to escape reality every now and always.  Because the store was about 45 minutes away and the prospect of bakeware shopping is not all that exciting to toddlers, we promised that we’d see cows and horses and sheep on the drive.

Only apparently all of the cows in the world went into hiding yesterday.  We saw sheep.  And more sheep.  We saw white sheep, black sheep, sitting sheep and standing sheep.  We saw a couple of horses through thick brush, but other than that we just saw fields.  Lots of rolling cowless green.

Ames was cool with this.  She was enjoying the ride and having a nap here and there.  Noah on the other hand .. not so much.  He was promised cows and he wanted those cows, dammit!   We tried and tried and tried and tried and used up half a tank of gas trying.  By this point it was almost getting heartbreaking, though more on the side of annoying, to hear the calls for “cows! cows! where did cows go?”.    We were lost.  Not that we didn’t know where we were, we just didn’t know where to find real* cows.

The last hope was a farm shop we’d been to years earlier where we discovered pickled onion cheese.  Now that is some serious tongue tingling, saliva producing, oh so moreish cheese!  But anyway, we decided it was that or suck it up and spend the rest of the afternoon listening to a very upset nearly 3 year old go on forever about how he’s so young and we’ve already failed him as parents.

Away we drove, pointing out all of the not cow things along the way and showing him all of the sheep as we turned the corner on to the road leading up to the farm shop.  The total disinterest in said sheep was not promising.  We pointed out the chickens running around and once again, Noah could have cared less.  In fact, all of his attention was focused on making sure that his helium balloon did anything but float.

Amy on the other hand was excited.  I am talking levels of excitement that just shouldn’t exist when you see a filthy beast of a chicken.  I hate birds.  Seriously hate birds.  Flamingos are pretty to look at, but I pretend they are not birds.  And don’t even come near me with a feather.  Dead birds are worse than live birds.  Except when they are chicken wings.  But this girl.  This girl who was born of me was running after chickens with abandon.  Balloon bopping about in the air as she took off in Crocs and no socks through mud and chicken shit to try and capture these vile creatures.  She even tried to enter their coop or “ca cas’ ‘ouse” as she called it.  And when we said no way to that idea, she waited outside somewhat patiently.

Come Out And Play With Me

Noah, upon seeing this, got full of macho and was determined not to have his 20 month old sister have all the fun.  Even if these big ass birds were kind of scary.  Plus, like in Patrick Swayze’s world where Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner, no one in Noah’s world denies his Adi what she wants!  Unless of course it is him.  So he joined her at the coop to tell those chickens to come out.

My Sister Wants To Play

Cows? What cows?  Noah started following Amy on her quest to become the world’s first under 3 ft tall Chicken Herder.  He laughed when they would run from her and would cock-a-doodle-do at them to let them know he could speak their language.  It was the smartest decision we had made that day.  Even better than the decision to drive to the shop to get the bakeware and discovering a new Soft Play area we can take the midgets (and it would have been THE smartest idea had we put socks on our children) .   And even though we left the house at 20 past 11am and didn’t wind up playing with chickens until nearly 4pm,  and I felt almost as carsick as that time I threw up Mr. Sub in the flowerbed outside of a Holiday Inn in Peterborough on an Easter weekend away with my parents when I was about 9, one look at my Mini Mr. Anxiety standing in the field with chickens running near him and it made it worth it.


As for what happened to Amy when we were consumed with happiness for Noah letting go of one fear (momentarily .. whilst clutching tightly to another) .. she decided to challenge some chickens to a duel.

Midget v Chicken

Seriously. This girl was calling out a chicken that was off camera and this malformed, mutant chicken tried to step in. She didn’t bat an eyelid, and when the object of her taunts decided to take a quiet walk in the parking lot, she took off after him laughing like a total maniac.

I guess she really is mine.

2 Responses to “Chicken Joy”
  1. Kadie says:

    I love this story and I can feel the chicken joy!!

  2. Cathy says:

    Baa, Baa, Black Sheep, have you any cows?! Love this and the pictures…

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