Earlier this week, my husband and 3-year-old son went on an adventure. On the way, they stopped in at our favorite coffee shop. The barrista asked what they were up to, and my husband coolly informed her that the two of them were going to “pick up chicks.”

She looked at him and didn’t say a word. Naturally, he thought this was very funny, so he went on to clarify that he was on the way to pick up baby chickens. We now have 50 in the living room while we put some finishing touches on their new home.

And he says that being married to me is an adventure. This one was his idea.

The kids are having a blast with them. Several have names (“Mary” is popular right now, perhaps due to the Christmas season). There are endless giggles over the absurdity of chicken poop. My daughter commented the other day, “Life on a farm is pretty fun if you have baby chicks around.”

I guess I’d have to agree.

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