The Journal of an Honest Mom

My husband took Child #2 to collect eggs from our chickens.
Or, as he proudly calls them…
“Chicken eggs!”
Apparently, while they were in the coop, he decided that using his eyes to find the eggs was just too simple.
Instead, he came up with a new strategy.
Hands first.
So, at each nesting box, he reached his little hand inside and felt around, hoping to find an egg.
Then he’d pull his hand out…
Move to the next nesting box…
And do it all over again.
We have seven nesting boxes.
He searched every single one.
Only after leaving the coop did he happen to look down at his hand.
That’s when he realized…
It wasn’t eggs he had been collecting.
It was chicken poop.
He had poop hands.
And no eggs.
I think he was disappointed that he didn’t find any eggs.
But I think he was even more disappointed when I told him he had to wash his hands with soap.
Water is fun.
Soap?
Not so much.
Especially when the reason you’re using it is because you blindly stuck your hand into seven chicken nesting boxes.
I guess that’s one way to learn how chickens work.
Next time…
We’ll try using our eyes first.