G. and I were strolling along (not our usual hiking pace) on the Eastern Prom the other day looking for a good spot to sit and read our books while L. was taking a class.
I had packed some chips to snack on for G. along with a water bottle.
Chips on the Eastern Prom = not a good idea.
After a near miss with a poop bomb from one of many circling seagulls - how they found us so fast is beyond me - we packed up and headed to the library instead.
Then later, as G. was putting on her sandals at home, I heard her start to huff.
"Ooooh, I really hate poop! Mom, I have to wash my sandals, again."
Our yard is full of chicken poop because they do their business everywhere and the kids (and me) are constantly stepping in it. But Fino doesn't mind and tells the kids often to get over it.
"It makes the grass look great!" he tells us.
Yeah, thanks birds. We could however do with a little less fertilizer this week.
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