Buffalo Chips

Wednesdays are my favorite days, because I don't have any lessons. Last Wednesday in particular was a gorgeous 70 degrees, and since I knew it was going to be one of our last warm days in a looooooooooooong time, I took the kids out for an excursion to see Handyman at work.They were especially excited when they found out he was working at a buffalo farm.Whoops, wrong buffalo.They do have the same expression, though.The kids thoroughly enjoyed running around in the warm sunshine. In fact, they had so much fun, that they forgot to watch where they were running. Peter and Breanna took off around the corner of the building/shed thingy, (hey, Handyman's the one in construction, not me), and the next thing I know, I hear Breanna screaming her head off.Now, every mother knows the difference between the hurt scream, the hungry scream, and the anger scream. Each scream has varying degrees of intensity. Breanna's scream in this situation was a full-out 10-point anger level scream. She was royally ticked off. (I could use another word here, but this is a family-friendly blog. When feces words are used, it's only in the context of feces. Keep reading.)I rounded the corner, to find her knee deep in poo. Knee deep, completely stuck, and utterly ticked off. I could see first one shoe that had gotten sucked off, another shoe, and then her. It was like watching the progress of her mad dash permanently embedded in buffalo poop.I would like to state here for the record, that at least in this situation, I reacted as a good mommy. I did NOT follow my first impulse, which was to leave her there and run back to the van for my camera first. That is why I do not have any poopy photographs of my daughter cemented in buffalo muck. (I'm sure that when she reaches high school I will regret missing this golden photo opportunity to permanently humiliate her.)

Thankfully, I was able to locate a large bucket and a water spigot. I stripped both her and Peter (he had led her into trouble, but was able to extricate himself without my help) and washed the muck off. Because their pants were disgusting (and had an extra 10 pounds of poop on them), I let them run around for an hour or so with just their shirts and undies on.

Being easily adaptable children, they thought this plan wondrously fun.

I am so glad it was only my father in law, my brother in law Tom, and Handyman who had to witness this debacle. Sigh, "Mother of the Year" I am not.
Here's a video of the kids playing "buffalo" . . .
(You might want to pause the music player on the left sidebar, first)