My Head is Boring

My girls can be pretty helpful.  My boys . . . not so much.  Yesterday, the kids knew it was going to town day and Daisy Mae quickly offered to pack lunches for everyone.

This was my lunch bag.

Can I just say that the most exciting part about this (other than the fact that I rock) is that Daisy Mae spelled everything correctly!?!?  Daisy Mae and spelling just don’t get along.

Holla, Daisy Mae!  Holla!

So, yes.  Yesterday, we went to town.  I thought Handsome Dude had recovered enough, but I was gravely mistaken.  As was evidenced by his severe meltdown at Costco.  Poor Handsome Dude has not been feeling well for awhile now.  We did not rush him in right away, because according to him, his only symptoms were, and I quote:

“My head is boring.”

That boy is going to be SO FUN to teach next year.  I can’t hardly wait.  We might have to start off on proper usage of adjectives.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch . . .

Today is an exciting day.  The girls ran in to tell me that baby bunnies were being born.  Now, folks, this is a treat.  For some reason our rabbits don’t like to, you know, *ahem*do what rabbits do.  Apparently, romance was in the air about 28 days ago because bunnies are being birthed as we speak!  The bucks must have gotten all “rico suave” on us.

Yes.  That is a smiling buck.  And yes, I just said buck.  A boy rabbit is a buck and a girl rabbit is a doe.  And babies are called kits.  Consider yourselves informed.

Since the kits were being born, I made all the kids and a handful of animals return to the house to watch The Muppets.  For some reason, noises freak the bunnies out and all sorts of freaky things happen when bunnies are freaked out.

Ask me how I know.

The animals prefer it inside anyways.  As is evidenced by the mass amounts of animal hair I have scattered about.  Gross.  Disgusting.  I am trying to get the cat to be an outside cat now, but he keeps sneaking in.

In other farm and ranch news, the hummingbirds have returned.

Can you see it?  Can you see it?  Sure you can.  I tried my best.  I am posting this photo to make my friend Melissa K uEber jealous of my abundance of hummingbirds.

Speaking of winged creatures to be jealous of, let’s talk about chicks, man.

This is my favorite hen.  And, yes, there is a smudge on my camera.  I care not.  Obviously.  But don’t you think this hen is glorious?  I shall call her Gloria, simply for the fact that Gloria is a fantastic name.  She is pretty and I choose to believe my favorite blue eggs come from her feathered hiney.  But what do I know?

Not much.

And in Terrifying Farm Questions, do you think these hens look all that willing to share their eggs with me?

I am pretty sure that if I reach into a nest box, that dark brown hen is going to peck at my hand with her beak of death.

Daisy Mae and I opted to leave her eggs alone for a bit.  We were afeared.  Don’t tell David.  He will be so disappointed in me and the lame excuse for a farm wife that I clearly am.

Speaking of David, I think he has brought home more chickens.  I mean, it is getting offa-the-hook out there in the coop.  I don’t see David much these days, as his work hours have been increasing.  Remind me to ask him if he has been secretly bringing home chickens after work.

Oh!  What’s that?  Your husband doesn’t sneak chickens home while you remain unawares?

Huh.  Interesting.