Conan’s Birthday and the Chicken
If you are reading this you may be thinking, wow, that is a strange title for an article on a health blog. But I just had to share these two stories with all of you and I think I can put them together in one blog post. So here, goes.
On Saturday my little boy turned three years old. I still remember when he was a tiny little baby. It seems like it was just yesterday that I was holding him and nursing him on our couch. Now he’s a big boy. He goes potty all by himself now, helps me with his little brother, knows all of his letter sounds and is beginning to sound out words, and is growing so fast. Where did the past three years go?
We had a Handy Manny Birthday party for our little one. If you haven’t heard of Handy Manny he is a character on a television show on Playhouse Disney. Handy Manny is a bilingual Hispanic young man who lives in Sheetrock Hills with his talking tools and robot dog. He is the town’s fix it man. He and his tools travel all over town helping people out by fixing what is broken. They’ve fixed everything from store signs, a baby‘s crib, and an older lady’s washing machine. Ever since Conan got a set of play tools for Christmas he’s wanted to be Handy Manny and that show became his favorite.
I made a chocolate cake and decorated it with graham crackers and colored icing. I also placed a Handy Manny figurine set on the cake. We didn’t have anything fancy for dinner. My husband grilled hot dogs, hamburgers and brats. He cooked the brats, Wisconsin style by cooking them in beer first. They were delicious! I know that meal isn’t that nutritious, but I believe you can eat like this if you do it in moderation and that will be alright. I wouldn’t eat greasy hamburgers, hot dogs and brats every day.
Temperatures hit over 100 degrees in the Valley on Saturday. The party was at my in-law’s and their neighbors let us swim in their pool, which was very refreshing. The kids had a great time, but it took a little coaxing to get Conan and Ciara to get into the pool. Once they were in, though it was hard to get them out!
Conan had a wonderful birthday party. When we got home that evening the kids slept very well in the new air conditioning, dispite of all the noise and racket coming from the backyard.
Part two: The Chicken.
At around midnight that night I heard a dog barking, a cat screeching and another loud squealing noise that I did not recognize. I was sleeping on the couch and could tell that the noises were coming from directly behind me in our back yard. Our cat instantly perked his ears up and ran to the door to see what it was.
When I looked out the window I saw a huge Siamese Tom cat and what looked like a ball of feathers with two large feet sticking out. I was thinking, “What the heck is that!” The cat was sitting on our back patio just staring at his prey. I thought the bird was dead but I had no idea what kind of bird it was at this time.
I ran into the back bedroom where my husband was sleeping and woke him. “Chris,” I said. “You have to come and see this.” He followed me to the back door and I explained what I had heard. He looked and couldn’t figure out what the bird was either. He also said that he would clean it up in the morning.
Ten minutes after I climbed back onto the couch I heard the noises all over again. “Crap!” I thought, “That darn bird is still alive!”
After watching the cat chase the bird all over our back yard for a minute or two I finally figured out just what kind of bird it was. The cat caught a chicken and somehow managed to get the thing up over our fence. Why did he choose our backyard? Whom did the chicken belong to? These questions remain unanswered.
I woke my husband once again and told him to come and see what was going on. By this time our cat was getting even more excited and it looked like he wanted to join in the fun. I suggested to Chris that he try to chase the cat out of our yard. As I held our cat back he opened the door and yelled out the door, but that did not distract that darn cat. He continued to play with his new toy while the neighbors dog barked away and the chicken squealed as loud as her little lungs would let her. Poor thing!
Chris was too scared to go into our backyard to shoo the cat away. There was no way I was going to do that either. So we decided to let fate decide the future of the poor bird and I went to bed in the back bedroom so I didn’t have to put up with the noise all night.
When we awoke the next morning we found a dead chicken in the middle of our back yard. I said, “Someone is going to wake up this morning and realize that they are missing a chicken.” Chris cleaned up the mess and now we have chicken feathers all over our back yard.