Holy shit. I was going to blog about this stupid fake and yet lifesized rooster that my mother in law gave to Little O two years ago. But let's talk about the fact that blogger is currently changing my title into some malaysian script. wow.
Okay, no, let's talk
My mother in law is old school, y'all. As in from the old country. El Campo. But she's had forty + years to absorb the culture. She did in fact buy a to-scale replica of a rooster, covered in feathers. But it WAS being sold in a major american retail store. I know, because when Little O fell in love with it, the tag was still attached. They were selling it as fall decor. Really? You didn't think a hay bale or a scarecrow or a cornucopia? No, a Chicken.
I believe that thing is still around, stuffed into the back recesses of a closet, because when Little O finds it, she drags it out and it sheds a few more feathers for my enjoyment.
Gracias, Mama Dina.
Well I will bitch about the bird no more, because Dina's tenants have one upped her on the chicken scale. How, you ask?
They have a chicken on a string. A live chicken. A rooster. On a string. As a pet.
Nothing could make me happier than to hear Little O announce that we're ready for a chicken. Baby, I'm not sure Floaty made it six months in our house. Our chicken comes on a styrofoam tray preferably boneless and skinless (I am SO giving my kid nightmares--Must.think.before.I.speak.).
I admit that this poor bird is very well behaved. Being the prized plaything of a six year old that drags you around by the string attached to your leg probably takes alot of the fight right out of you. It's nerve wracking to watch the kids play with the bird. In all fairness, she only goes too fast and actually pulls him occasionally. But it's a live bird. On a string. And now Little O wants one.
Maybe we'll drag that old rooster down from the back of the closet and tie a string to it's leg? OOOH! We'll upgrade and put him on wheels! Float him in a now half-empty fishbowl?
Big O's campaign of treachery and deceit tomorrow!!!