Some evenings I like to put the dogs up early and let the chickens out. The good ones scratch and search the yard for bugs, but the bad ones wander off into the woods. When the rooster calls for them to gather up, not all of them obey. The wood wanderers stubbornly keep scratching and my kids, terrified they will get eaten in the night if they are left out, chase them out of the woods until dark, forcing them into the pen.
I would let them out every day, watch them enjoy their bit of freedom and tasty treats, but for the stubborn few who ruin the fun. I could sell the bad ones. Keep the docile hens who follow the rooster. And I might.
But I can’t sell the disobedient kids.
You would think a bigger car with more room wouldn’t equal more car fights, but it does. It makes me wonder why some mother, driven to insanity on car trips, hasn’t invented the sound proof bubble. Each child could have one. It would be impossible to touch the other. Offending faces would be blurred out. It’s a spectacular idea. Right up there with disposable socks. I could be a millionaire.
