i am joni lane, and i may or may not have stepped in a few fresh chicken dooders. i'll never tell.
let me set the stage::
steve is at soccer practice with macy.
i am home alone with zach.
i finally rip myself away from the computer and my addiction to facebook (there. i said it)
so that i can go visit the restroom.
i busy zach with some toys in his room.
i just get into the bathroom (in a way that does not merit the ability to immediately vacate for any reason) when i hear the front door squeak open.
i start panic mode.
i'm sweetly calling for zach when my scary voice starts to set in, which is now a "ZACH!!!! GET BACK HERE NOW!" kinda call. ya ever do that???
Not even 30 seconds later (after zooming around the house looking for him and my now hidden shoes (mind you i usually have about 4 laying around) i burst through the doors shoeless.
I call for zach and instead of hearing/seeing him...i notice and hear the gaggle of my cackling hens. (we have 5) that my dear SON has now let roam free.
i can't wait or whine for steve to do it.
he's not here.
blitz (our oversized lab) is being very good, but managing to salivate at a much higher production rate.
i can't afford to wait around or we could end up chicken-less, and i really love my girls.
very shoe-less-ly i manage to capture all 5.
(which in all honesty i have never really been able to do with my shoes on).
once the chickens are safe and sound zach ever-so-sweetly says, "i go chicken eggs really please?"