Peter wants a farm. This is not actually a new desire on his part. But it has emerged with fresh intensity of late because of the latest attraction in his kindergarten, better far than the leprechauns who left little footprints all over the classroom in March.
Chicks.
Mrs. Norman brought an incubator for chicken eggs to hatch them in the classroom. The children watched over them with anxious eyes for what seemed to be ages, but last week the eggs finally broke open. First one, then six, then a dozen or so. Baby chicks. In the classroom. You couldn't tear the kids away without exerting considerable force of will…and body. I know, I was volunteering on Wednesday and spent most of my time either watching over the children when they were allowed to hold the chicks, and steering them away when it was time to give the little peep-peep-peepers a bit of rest.
Peter was enthralled, gently stroking the chicks in teacher-approved fashion with one finger, carefully cupping the chicks in two hands…and letting out shrieks and whoops from the sheer thrill of it all.
So he thinks we need an incubator at home. As for the question of what to do with the chicks when they would get bigger, well, let's just say he's not convinced that's really a problem. Maybe moving to a bigger house wouldn't provide a lasting solution to our space problems after all…
No comments:
Post a Comment