Last Friday night I went shopping with my daughters Addy and Emma. Addy wanted to buy a pack of press-on fingernails “It says they stay on for 24 hours” she whined to me when I said they would fall off during swim practice (which she has every day). Nope and still nope was my reply.
Yeah I know, I’m a rotten mom.
Then early Saturday morning at a yard sale Emma spotted a nifty gun that spat out Maltese choke-able sized balls. Absolutely not I said when she started pulling out her quarters. Wah – she puffed and went back to the car to sit in the back seat her arms folded across her chest.
Yeah, yeah, got it. I stink as a mom.
Then we went to the local chicken swap and I started talking to the breeder from whom we had gotten our lovely seabright hen: Isabelle and our chicken-chicken Morgane. Along with some chickens (which we didn’t get) she also had bunnies for sale.
Oh God, no. No bunnies.
Can I hold one asked Addy? Sure go ahead but there’s no way I’m going home with a bunny so don’t even ask. She picked up the bunny and literally squealed with delight.
Pleeeeeeeeeeease? She said making one or two vague promises like I’ll do the dishes everyday for the rest of my life.
Nope. Absolutely not. We. Do. Not. Need. A. Bunny. We have 10 newborn chicks at home remember? If you glued long ears on our dogs they would pretty much look like rabbits, just play with them. Continue reading