Mr. Cartigan called me over to the bathroom with that something-very-cute-has-happened-and-as-a-parent-you-need-to-see-it tone of voice. When I peeked, I saw the vignette pictured above.
“Oh.” I said flatly. “Is that cute?” I’d seen it earlier and all I could think was ‘Thanks a lot girls, for another random mess for me to sort out. As if I didn’t have anything else to do. Or five other piles of little things you’ve collected from other parts of the house and then left. I can’t wait to re-sort your clip collection.’
“It’s totally cute!” he assured me.
“Huh… Really?” I’d seen the girls hovering over this collection earlier, working on it together very congenially.
“…Okay.” I walked slump-shouldered to grab my phone and take a picture.
I had to take his word for it.
A day later, when I was feeling less overwhelmed, I asked the girls about it.
“We had to take all our clips down to count them!” They said cheerfully.
“Oh?” Said I.
They have 23 clips, according to R. I’m not sure what the lip gloss counts towards.
Now I can sort of see it. It was a little easier to see after Mr. Cartigan graciously put all the clips away for me. (Really we should have had the girls do that but give me a break people, this stuff is exhausting.)
And so I leave it to you, dear readers, to determine for yourselves if barrette collecting on the commode is indeed the stuff cuteness is made of.
I like to talk the talk (“Oh my God! She lets her kids eat ______???!!!! Does she know how much _______ is in that???!!!”). And I know how to walk the walk (“Yes, you can have that juice-sweetened carob-chip cookie after you finish your lima beans and quinoa.”)
But sometimes, I hand my kids Lunchables. And they are so happy.
The rumors were true! We did get little chick chicks (and yes, as I am typing this, my internal voice is two octaves higher than normal. They’re so cute!!!) We brought home four chickens from a nearby feed store. Two are Buff Orpingons (“Diamond” and “Christmas Day”), one is a Welsummer (“Runaway Chicken”), and one is a Light Brahma (“Mama Brahma White Pajama”). Though the guides I read recommend keeping chicks of different ages separate, we eded up with a flock of chicks ranging from one week to three weeks and it’s working out.
True to her name, Mama is the oldest, biggest, and bossiest. Christmas Day and Diamond, the babies, like to follow her around (in fact, they were all housed together in the feed store). And don’t tell my kids, ’cause she’s M’s chick: Runaway Chicken is my favorite. She spends a good amount of time looking around and checking things out. She’s also the best forager and when we let the chicks play on our lawn, Runaway Chicken finds the best wild treats. While the Orpingtons follow Mama around, Runaway Chicken blazes her own trail. I like that in a chicken.