Oh. My. Chicken. Love.
They say that much of an infant's discovery of the world around him involves what the "experts" call mouthing. This poor chicken had no idea what was coming.
That's what I call gentle stroking gone bad. I'm having Of Mice and Men flashbacks:).
Have no fear. Little Sam was thoroughly sanitized after he mauled the chicken. I'm sure he doesn't even remember his close encounter. The chicken...I'm not so sure. Maybe that's why he's still huddled in the corner of his box? I kid.
Tomorrow we're hoping to finish the coop. I tease Ben that he's building the Ritz Carlton of chicken coops.
If there's one thing I'm sure of as these boys grow, it will be that they know how to work. They have no choice with Ben as their papa. Working with dad doesn't feel like work. There's some magic formula when sweat, tools, materials, a shop, and boys mix. It's called FUN. However, change one variable to "Mom," and the equation goes haywire. That's what I call WORK gone bad:).
I'm happy to report that our weekend is lacking in to-do's. I'm thinkin' it's time to finish a couple of books I've started, have a picnic, go on a bike ride, make some cookies, lay on the floor and let Sam explore my face with his tiny fingers.
Sounds like work to me:).