The Person I've Become

Last night as A. was cleaning and skinning a duck outside on the picnic table, the following words came out of my mouth:

"Jack, don't run off with the hatchet."

"Cubby, don't bring that duck foot inside."

"Jack, leave the neck alone. It's bloody."

"Charlie, Daddy's butchering the duck. Do you want one of the wings or a foot to play with?"

To that last one, A. shook his head in amusement and said, "Listen to yourself."

Indeed. Funny how we become 36-year-old people our 16-year-old selves wouldn't recognize, isn't it?

This and That

A. spent almost all weekend dealing with the giant garbage can of sap--plus some buckets--that the maple trees flooded us with last week. He made his signature woodchuck evaporator out of cinder blocks and old stovepipe and spent many hours standing around it.

Sometimes the children stood there too, but since watching sap boil is about as exciting as watching paint dry, they mostly ran around fighting over sticks or whatever. Fun for all.

The MiL spent the weekend sneaking poultry into the cellar.

Welcome to the duckling red light district.

Okay, not all weekend. Just Saturday. She went into the Small City to run errands and when she got home started ferrying things into the cellar. Like a big bale of wood shavings. And the heat lamps. Cubby helped her get it all set up and then came running into the living room to announce to a wailing Charlie (due to post-nap trauma), "Charlie, there's a BIG SURPRISE in the cellar!"

A big surprise, indeed, in the form of a dozen Khaki Campbell ducklings. Not sure of their eventual purpose (although extra males never last long around here, since we, uh, eat them), but A. is already happily plotting dams and ponds in the hollow and the MiL is planning all the custards she can make with duck eggs. And, of course, maple syrup.

So that was our weekend. How was yours?