I never in a million years pictured this happening yesterday when we headed out to the Children’s Rodeo in town:
Yes, thats my child holding a chicken.
A chicken that if you catch, you keep.
So lets rewind a bit.. hmmmmm?
This would be my baby girl
Chasing chickens like her life depended on it.
“Come here chickie, I will feed you and dress you and let you live with my dolls.”
The sweet talk worked.
And I’m sure it was the promise of the luxury accommodations provided by the barbie dream house that was the clincher to my girl getting that chicken.
Either that or the chicken was plum tuckered out from running like a maniac from three and four your old screaming kids.
You can take your pick on that one.
One chicken down.
One to go.
Go BIG SISTER!
She hesitated, ran, turned back, ran, disappeared into a crowd of screaming six and seven year olds and walked out with this:
This is my girl who see’s bugs and screams.
Who wont touch critters and makes her little sister do it for her.
To say I was shocked she grabbed a chicken ON HER OWN, is an understatement.
I swelled with pride in the stands.
The swelling could also of been from the ice cream, scone, popcorn and other fair goodies I consumed the day previous, but lets not judge.
So the girls cradled their new babes in their arms, then put them in their cowgirls hats and we proceeded to watch the greased pig chase, barrel racing, and wild goat milking.
That last part of that sentence made me feel….so very country.
So…. as we embraced our inner hillbilly and cheered for the crazy kids chasing pigs, chickens and milking less then thrilled wild goats, I couldn’t help but think….
What the HELL am I gonna do with two chickens?!