I sent Handsome Dude and Little Dude outside this morning because they were driving me insane it is good for them to get fresh air.
They asked if they could get the eggs And I, the mean mom that I am, said “no.” I have a very logical reason for this. The hens will still lay eggs and there will be more to gather later in the afternoon. I do not wish to have the eggs coming in all throughout the livelong day. I like to clean them once and put them away and be done with it.
So, they go outside and I do the happy dance because I get to clean the kitchen in peace.
A few moments later they barge in the front door. They are panting and covered in a poo/mud mixture. But this is not abnormal.
Handsome Dude: Mom! You lied!
Me: What?
Handsome Dude: You said there would be no eggs. But there were eggs, Mom!
Me: I never said there would not be eggs. I said do not get the eggs.
Handsome Dude: Oh. Well we got eggs.
Me: Well, where are they?
There were no eggs in their grubby, little hands, nor did they have our little egg carrier.
Yes. We have an egg carrier. Don’t you?
Little Dude: They are in my pocket! Surprise!
And Little Dude started pulling eggs out of his pockets. It was like a magic trick, I kid you not They just kept coming!
Three came out of his coat and I asked if that was all.
Little Dude: Nope!
And he started pulling more eggs out of his pockets.
As he was pulling them out, he exclaimed: “Oh, gross! I fink there is baby tricken in my pocket!”
Allow me to interpret. He said “I think there is a baby chicken in my pocket.” Which was, in fact, merely a broken egg.
No baby. Just yolk.
Lots of yolk. In his pocket.
Have you ever tried to scoop a broken egg out of your four year old’s pants pocket?
Oh, its fun. I implore you to try it immediately.
All in all, Little Dude have seven eggs hiding in his tiny pockets.
One, regrettably, did not survive the adventure.
So, tell me, dear readers. What crazy things have your kids done?
Surely, I am not alone.
Right?
I love your kids! x
Based on your last post about the slaughtered pigs, I “fink” LD is growing up to be just like his Lumberjack father.
I also got a kick out of the way you oh so casually explain that you only want to wash eggs once a day.
I am also amazed at how many of your readers had experiences and knowledge to share about pig butchering! Has everyone moved to Ruralville?!?! (and no, I do not feel left out! I’m proud to be ignorant of pig butchering!)
That really is so cute…such a little boy thing that you will smile about one day. I think you could turn your boy-farm stories into a sweet children’s book, in your spare time of course : )
Sweet story, great pictures!
Did you ever find Peter the cat?????
No 🙁 It makes me so sad!
I know about yolks in pockets. My husband, as well as my son, has done it a few times. We do get eggs several times a day… If we don’t, they may freeze. Also, too many and the chickens may break what’s already in the nest. That’s a mess!!
hi! =)
Crazy thing? My daughter collected eggs from our coop one day after school and put them in her backpack. We then got them all out of her backpack….we thought. The next day after school, her teacher came over to the car and told me that “an egg rolled out of my daughter’s backpack today at school and got stepped on and is now imbedded in the carpet….” Fortunately she is a wonderful teacher and thought the situation was hilarious. So, no. You are not alone! 🙂
The craziest (please read as nastiest) things my 2 boys ever did were:
1. We used to live 20 feet from a lake. Like most little kids, they had their sand pails, etc., with which they could catch small crawfish, clams, etc. One day I noticed a foul odor coming from their bedroom – looked under the beds to find buckets of their “friends” who had met with an untimely demise and had proceeded to turn putrid!
2. My boys had been fishing and playing near the water again on another day. The following morning, I threw in a load of shorts and pants. Found another pair of pants under their beds (shocking, I know…). Opened up the washing machine to add them to the load and found 2 frogs and assorted worms, etc., floating on top of the wash water.
Little boys and pockets or buckets…..gotta love ’em!
PS: I let them live! They’re now 22 and 20 so Taylor, take heart – they grow up in spite of everything!
that is hilarious!! I love reading everyone’s funny stories about their kids 🙂
I’ve done that myself before. 🙂
I have three adult daughters – no sons but three brothers so I do have experience in this field. When my middle daughter was pregnant with her second child and longing for a boy, I tried to warn her. Two recent grandson stories to relate:
1) Last week my daughter noticed someone had drawn on her bedroom wall. She asked both children if they did it.Granddaughter said no. Grandson traced it with his finger, sniffed it, licked it, then said yes, he did it.
2) Today while at work, I got a text from same daughter asking if I know how to remove urine from the heating/air conditioner vent.
Lesson: Be careful what you ask for.
So many stories, but I can’t remember them because I lost all brain cells when I gave birth.
Your blog makes me a little sad with all the animals being killed and cat missing and the dog who died. I couldn’t live on the farm like you do. I would be upset all the time about the animals. And I have to say that you can post the chicken parts in a jar picture every single day instead of talking about the pig killing. Lol. That post made the chicken parts seem very tame. Hope Peter shows up. And that maybe the pigs will escape their doom.
My nephew, age 3, went to collect eggs one day, in a large can. He just threw them in it, so we had a nice start to scrambled eggs w/shells in the can. Cook and crunch.
Another time he took the water hose w/sprayer attached and shot my uncle right in the butt as he, uncle, was bending over weeding the garden. Just the thought cracks me up to this day, and my nephew is in his 30s now. Yow, cold water up the wazoo!
Boys are no picnic in the park, that’s for sure. LOL
I found this whole post to be adorable. ADORABLE!
My youngest spilled some art sand on the rug that I had just vacuumed yesterday. I think I’ll be grateful that there was no mud/poo mixture, broken eggs in pants, or dead pigs in my life. 🙂
Maybe I need to redefine the phrase “How cool!” to my littlest, now four – almost five. When she found a carpenter ant marching across the kitchen counter last year and I said “How cool!” (trying to make it all Science Projecty instead of Ew Gross-y), she said “YEAH!”
Then picked it up and ate it. Alive.
Sometimes, reading about your adventures with your boys are all this city-girl needs to laugh up a storm!