Feeding the Kids on Saturday Morning
It is Saturday morning and I have slept in; fortunately, like the city parking meters, "the early bird gets the worm" does not apply on weekends. Since the kids are ravenous, I am out on a wing and a prayer to the grocery store for victuals.
Gonna go out on a limb and say that parking is always an issue on Saturday mornings at 10 am.
My philosophy is that you should always vigorously select your own produce. Love the satisfaction of finding the first worm. Sometimes the best things in life are in your own back yard.
Such a splendid non-GMO section; I must thank the manager!
The inevitable dilemma: should I just throw my things in a basket or will I need the big cart? Too often I have selected the basket, only to return, red faced, for the large wheels. There always seems to be that mockingbird lurking nearby to make fun of me.
I am distracted in the decorative home section of the store. "Wouldn't these sunlit candles create a romantic ambiance in my rustic digs? Where would I put them though? The nest is just full of the kids' crap!"
And then I'm home with my little, featherless, darlings. Is there anything more gratifying than feeding hungry kids who will swallow anything you drop into their open mouths?!
Occasionally the kids' father helps with the feeding; he is such a feather duster, but it gives him something to crow about.
He is quite helpful though, with the neighborhood watch. Vigilance is necessary to protect the young from those who would prey on their naïveté.
There has been a recent flurry of activity in the hanging basket across the street.
Who knows what these eggs will hatch into?!
Their mother is all eyes in a nearby tree.
Four-legged, ferocious, furry creatures lurk below. I tell my little ones that they are not to be trusted: "pretty is as pretty does."
If there is ever any complaining about the type of worms that I've brought home, I remind the kids that they should just be thankful for a roof over their heads.
I don't mean to be insensitive, but I think we have a dyslexic bird in the other hanging basket. ;) Perhaps I can be helpful and show her around the produce department. She seems to be crossing her iii's and dotting her ttt's.