Oh Dear, Chicken

I haven’t fully thought through what I’m going to write about today but I didn’t want to get into the habit of leaving it too long between posts (you know, what with all those imaginary people clamouring for me to write more – those people also being the ones who told me I won the lottery and that Nathan Fillion wants me to divorce my husband so I can marry him instead).

Potty training is going far better than I ever dared hope (which still means Tyger went through at least six pairs of pants yesterday) but I won’t talk about that today.  For one thing, I’m fed up of dealing with and thinking about other creatures’ waste (one of our cats pooped in the bath this morning.  Of all places, it was easy to clean up but still WTF!?) and for another, I’m going to talk about The Small Toys.

Yes, The Small Toys are the smaller plastic animals from Tyger’s farm set.  Specifically, the rabbit, duck and swan, though he also has a turkey and cockerel and had a hen (more on that later).  Tyger is not very good at remembering where he put things but he is very good at putting things in/behind/under all sorts items of furniture and such.  This means every day includes at least 10 conversations along the lines of the following:

Tyger: Where’s it duck?
Me: I don’t know.  Where did you last have it?
Tyger: Where’s it duck?
Me: I’m not sure.  I’ll look for it.
Tyger: Where’s it duck?
Me: Is it behind the radiator?  Under the sofa?  In your kitchen?
Tyger: Where’s it duck?
Me: Is it in your spaceship?  Behind a cushion?  Under a speaker?
Tyger: Where’s it duck?
Me: Look, here it is!!  I’ve found it.  Here’s duck.
Tyger: Where’s it rabbit?

This is one of the infuriating issues with The Small Toys.  The other is connected to our husky.  We have two dogs: a black (technically ‘blue’) German shepherd who is clumsy and has a tendency to eat her own poo (again with the poop) but is generally eager to please and pretty trainable (as per the breed), and a Siberian husky who doesn’t give a flying frack what anyone wants her to do ever (as per that breed) and chews up anything and everything especially if it looks like a children’s toy (or your child’s first pair of shoes – not that I’m still bitter about that).  You can probably see where this is going.  Basically, the hen now looks like this:

Obviously, this has at least taught Tyger why he can’t give his toys to the Devil-husky and has given him a greater respect for his possessions.

Of course it hasn’t.  This morning I had to rescue a spoon from his toy kitchen and no doubt many more toys will meet Chicken’s fate.  As it is, I had a donkey minus it’s hooves and face given to me one morning with the phrase, ‘Oh dear horsey,’ repeated over and over.

Ah, the joys of pets and children.

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