Mmm, chicken.

We got 12 broiler chicks last Saturday. At the moment, they are in a giant wooden box (thanks, Dad!) in the garage. Sterling and Ruby have taken to running down about once per hour to check on them.

“Momma! They have blood on them!” Oh honey. That’s their behind. It’s supposed to be pink. No blood.

“Momma, they’re growing!” Perfect. I’m not certain I’m convinced that you can tell that just since you checked on them 10 minutes ago, but ok.

“Momma, they need more water!” How far is it down? About an inch. 7 more inches to go before it’s empty. I’ll get right on that.

And my favorite, “How come they aren’t big yet?” We told them they’d grow fast and four days in, darn it, they aren’t full grown yet.

Dear Charlotte,

I appreciate your attempts to be thrifty. Adding water to my face wash was a nice touch. It’ll stretch so much farther now. I’m not sure I like the new consistency, but I’m sure it’ll pour grow on me.

The eating toothpaste habit we must discuss. I’m about to make everyone use baking soda to brush with. I’m sure that will cure you of your habit, but I’m pretty sure your siblings will not appreciate your causing change.

If you need to snuggle at 2 am, could we lay side by side? Insisting that you lay flat out on top of me is not so comfy for me.

I know you’re a budding horticulturist, but, as you’ll find out should you study the topic further, leaving the dirt on the seeds Daddy planted is the best way for them to grow. Leaving the dirt on the floor isn’t good for Momma’s sanity.

Your frown is priceless. It’ll get you into trouble one day, but for now, it makes me laugh. Just know the day is coming that we’ll need to revisit the topic. Frowning at Momma when you don’t like what you hear isn’t acceptable past the age of 1.

We’ve made so much progress in the coloring department. You’re only coloring on paper these days. Now, to clarify: coloring on math books and Curious George books don’t constitute as coloring on paper. Yes, but no.

And in the words of you, ‘I, YOU!’. You refuse to say love… but we both know what it means. Your kisses and hugs are the best.

Momma

Dear Grandma,

Thank you for the potato salad idea.

Love,

Charlotte

Cereal confessions.

Charlotte eats Cheerios. A lot. This morning, the first box I found suitable to pick up with her fingers was chocolate cheerios. (Insert here that I did not grow up with sugar cereal. Not once that I can recall did we get cereal with sugar already on it in the box. I’m pretty sure I haven’t recovered… we buy a lot of sugar cereal. Both my dear husband and I… and now our children… see the value in honey nut cheerios over anything so plain and dry as the regular ones. Honey Bunches of Oats. You know, healthier versions than Lucky Charms. Most of the time. Some day I’ll grow up. Maybe.)

So back to Charlie. As I dumped chocolate cheerios (On sale, and I defend myself to say that I’d never gotten them before – or will I again. Not so great.) onto her tray for breakfast, she saw the darker color and says “Ooooooohhhhh!” like I’d given her the greatest gift. Needless to say, she finished and hollered for more.

Just call me ‘Raccoon Eyes’.

If you forgo the sunscreen, also forgoing the sunglasses would make for a far more even and less raccoon-like burn. Just so you know.

Dear, bickering children. How’s this one going to play out?

In the middle of putting another coat of polyurethane on our new stools, the kitchen table is covered with newspapers as a work area and out of use for eating at the moment. When Sterling and Ruby asked where they could eat lunch, I suggested one of them take the high chair. Sterling said he wanted to, and Ruby decided to one up him and ran to get to the chair first.

They make their own lunch. She hadn’t made hers yet.

A good three or four minutes into her little chair stealing session, she realized she doesn’t have any food. She’s still sitting there though, fearful of losing her place.

Sterling was moping until he realized Ruby’s predicament. Now everyone’s laughing at Ruby’s pleas for someone to make her lunch for her. This ought to be interesting.

Blessings, regularity, and bugs that I could do without.

Yesterday’s tick count for this family: 9. That, added to the one I found on Charlie on Monday would indicate that it’s going to be an itchy spring, I’m thinking.  Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl.

Charlotte woke up dry this morning – it’s happened a few times lately. Plopping her on the potty, she was so proud to do her business. Then she got up and more business puddled on the floor instead. Back to the potty, knowing regularity would indicate she had another sort of business to attend to. She sat for a bit, got up, and wouldn’t you know it, there was that darned old regularity we’d been waiting for. Good thing I hadn’t mopped yet.

Mr. Pierce, at the ripe old age of 5 months, went into 12 month clothes this week. And I thought having two boys born in opposite seasons was going to be an issue when it came to hand me downs. Pretty soon, they’ll just wear the same size. Never before have any of my children been more than one size bigger (and more often, smaller was the norm) than their age dictated for clothing. Bizarre.

Yesterday we were blessed by a dear family coming again to help with several of our many projects. My friends, they helped with fencing. Exactly. Rocky Missouri soil, t-posts, woven wire, and other tools I cannot even name were used to begin our task of fencing around our pasture. Awesome. With our list of to-do’s is far longer than days off allow for, this was huge. Did you know that driving a t-post into a rock bounces the ground just where the rock is, so you can see how big the boulder you are attempting to put a hole into is? It’s wonderful. If I were really, really ambitious, I could dig all those boulders up that are causing fencing problems and I’d have the rock garden I’ve been dreaming up for the front yard. Or not.