Pandemic. Quarantine. Words we never thought our kids would use in everyday life. I try really, ridiculously hard to find the humor and light in every situation. I text my husband and kiddos really silly jokes throughout the day- to which they mostly respond with eyerolls and shaking heads.
But that is how we get through. So...in keeping with being here for the laughs- here we go:
The two words mentioned above have us all spending more time in our homes than normal. Wayfair is no dummy- as they have sent me no less than 300 emails to let me know the sofa I’ve had my eye on for eons is on sale….and there are only a few left...hurry...you need to order now. We can finance it!
I made a plan to plead my case to the judge (i.e.: husband) all the while knowing it was probably the worst time to make a large purchase.
“Babe...I would rather you go buy more baby chicks than buy a sofa right now…” he continued on, but all I heard was immediately, you must go buy baby chicks.
He should know me better than this. He should know that all he did there- was give me permission for more baby things to raise. (Remember when he OJ’d the goat decision and I brought home Mocha and Leche? Yea, he should have known.)
The next day, Little Miss and I were off to the chick-store. Now, the chicken store is an interesting place, as one might gather. They typically have pigs, puppies, kittens, really anything you can sell, they have there for sale in baby form. (As most farm-stores do!) I always leave there with a story to tell and this time was absolutely no different.
“Okay, bud- we are going in here, not touching anything...getting the chicks, getting out- and sanitizing the shi- germs off our hands as soon as we get back to the truck,” I instruct.
“Got it,” Little Miss agrees.
We walk in and are greeted by an amish looking fellow who was thrilled to discuss all things chick with us. We grab the only three chicks left- which happened to be frizzles (!), a bag of feed and head out the door. Another fella, presumably the owner of the fine establishment, insists on carrying the chicken feed out to the truck. Little Miss gives me a look like I’m not following my own rules because I’m letting a stranger carry my feed for me.
I make small talk on the way to the truck about how odd the world is right now- not at all knowing that I was opening a door to a much more enlightening conversation than one could have ever imagined.
“They’re trying to pin this on Trump, ya know. This whole mess- they are trying to say this is his fault,” the fella tells me, while I smile and nod.
“The whole world is? Trying to pin it on the President?” I reply, blinking...as if to say, seriously?!
“You know the Clintons and the Bushes and them Obamas...they’re all crooked,” he continues.
My smile turns to nervous laughter because at this point, I’m lost. He leans towards me, as if to tell me a secret.
“Trump has them in prison...in Cuba....all of them. That’s what this is all about...so we won’t know what is really going on. It’s going to come out in a week or so,” he says.
“The Clintons, the Bushes, and the Obamas? In Cuba?” I ask.
“Yep...world’s gone know soon,” he said, as I continued backing towards my driver’s side door.
“Huh, well...thanks for the heads up. Have a great day!”
I locked my doors immediately. What the hell just happened. Thank God we saved these chicks!
“Mom...that was so weird,” Little Miss said.
“Not as weird as last time...last time I ended up in one of those trailers back there- I thought I was a goner!” I exclaimed.
“MOM! Why would you go in there!? ….did they have chicks in there? Oh.My.God. How have you never been kidnapped?” she scolded.
Valid question. I’ve put myself in some sticky situations for the sake of baby-animals.
Meet Regina, Gretchen, and Karen. (not pictured, because...Karen) #meangirls #youcantsitwithus
No comments:
Post a Comment