Last night Maurice would not settle down. And we had the doors shut for the air conditioner. And she wanted me to get up and watch her eat and let her out. And then she wanted back in. And then she wanted out. And this morning she finally decided that I was sleeping too long and insisted, INSISTED, that I get up.
Jeez. It wasn't even nine.
I went out to let the chickens and ducks out. I opened the Biddie Box for Mama and Pretty and Precious. I reached down to pick up a little plastic container I put their feed in to fill it up and Mama raced across the coop and bit my hand, drawing blood.
Seriously, Mama? I am not going to hurt your babies you wild, fierce thing.
Came in the house. Maurice was chewing on a lizard in the hallway.
Happy Saturday morning. I guess I'm going to T-Ball to watch a different species of wild things attempt to play a game with rules for an hour.
Last week after the game I asked Mr. Moon how it had gone.
"Our best player just wants to sit in his mama's lap and cry," he said. He sounded a little frustrated.
I'm thinking the age limit on T-Ball should be reconsidered upwards a little bit.