As a kid, I had a flock of chickens that we tried to keep at 20 to 30 birds. We raised the birds for the eggs and for fun, so we took care of our sick and injured birds.
We bought two silkies — little puffball chickens — and they stuck together. One of the silkies, later named Frankenmonk — or Monk for short — ended up getting an eye infection and lost her eye around when she got a neck injury, so we put the two silkies in the garage while the one healed, and then returned them to the flock.
We didn’t know if Monk and Puff, the other silkie, were males or females as they are notoriously difficult to determine the gender on, but we knew that Puff took care of Monk. Wherever one was, the other was, too.
One day, one of our Rhode Island Red roosters — about four times the size of the silkies at the time — decided to breed with Monk, and as soon as he tried, Puff flung her body into the rooster, knocking him down. Puff and Monk then continued on their way as if nothing had happened.
In my six years of owning chickens, this is still one of my favorite memories.
(While working as a volunteer at a charity store, I happen to overhear a coworker speaking on the phone to a customer.)
Coworker: *obviously pleased with what’s she’s hearing* “Yes… Yes, I see. All right, I’ll be sure to tell him. Thank you. Goodbye.”
(She’s grinning hugely as she puts down the phone.)
Other Coworker: “What was all that about?”
Coworker: “The customer just told me to tell [Manager] he’s an idiot. At last, I have official permission to say what I’ve been wanting to tell him all along.”
Other Coworker: “Just goes to show: sometimes the customer really is right!”
(When I become pregnant with our third child, my husband and I decide to spring for the at-home blood test so we can find out the sex of the baby as soon as possible. Both the blood test and subsequent ultrasound show that we are having a boy. The rest of the pregnancy is spent preparing for our second boy: picking a name, buying cute boy clothes, etc. The day of the birth arrives — I have to have a cesarean — and we are excited and nervous to meet our son. I lay on the operating table, my heart rate accelerating with the anticipation of meeting my new baby. The wail of a newborn fills the air, and I find myself breathless for just a moment. “He’s here,” I think. But then I hear this:)
Doctor: “It’s a healthy baby girl!”
(The best part? She was born on April Fools Day. All I can say is, well played, baby girl. Well played.)
(It’s a blisteringly hot day, so I decide to go for an iced coffee. As I walk up, there are two customers in front of me.)
Barista: “Can I get a name for that?”
Customer #1: *mumbles*
Barista: “Danny?”
Customer #1: “Andy.”
Barista: “Sorry, I’ve been giving everyone new names today. Now someone’s got to be Danny!”
Customer #1: *chuckles, pays, leaves*
Customer #2: *steps up to order*
Barista: “Would you like to be Danny?”
Customer #2: *laughs and gives their order and name*
Barista: “Someone called Danny’s going to come along later, and I’ll be like, ‘Yes! Danny! I’ve been waiting for you all day!’ and they’ll be so confused.”
(By now, we’ve all forgotten about the heat and the crowded shopping centre, thanks to our wonderfully cheerful, playful barista!)
Me: *steps up to order*
Barista: “Hello, Danny! What can I get you?”
(I had to take a moment to stop laughing before ordering. Thank you, amazing barista, for giving us all something to smile about on a long, hot day!)
(I am fifteen and my brother is thirteen. We start lawn care business together at the beginning of the summer. We work together to mow lawns and such. Recently, he broke his foot, so I’ve been handling the mowing, communication, money, etc. I went from making $22.50 a week to $45 a week, so I can’t complain. Today was very hot and I am all sweaty from working.)
Mom: “You look tired.”
Me: “Yeah, I’m going to take a freezie break. Let me just ask my manager.”
(I do a spin.)
Me: “I am the manager! Take a freezie break.”
(I spun again.)
Me: “I guess that’s settled. Can I, Mom?”
