In which I discuss walking through the sheep field coming from town

I may have mentioned previously that one way to get to town is to walk up the Dingle, down a footpath, over a bridge, and through two fields. We end up at the Car Park in town (and the primary school). On nice (i.e., not rainy) days, this would be a good way to get to school.

If my 3yo weren't lazy, that is. Its a loooong way to give a girl a piggyback ride, let me tell you.

Today, after visiting the playing field, we went for a walk into town. Its a short walk if we go down the Dingle to the main road, vs through the fields (as we have to go up the road a ways to get to the footbridge to cross the stream that runs behind us.) Pea was skipping and singing to herself. I was excited, as she wasn't whining about being tired, or wanting to be carried. (She may be small, but she is sturdy, and its tiring to carry her.)

Alas, once we got to the car park (her choice of destinations, since I didn't bring any money with which to buy her a juice at the Spar mini-mart) she showed her true colors and melted down. She couldn't decide whether to walk down the stairs, or down the ramp behind the shops at the top of the car park.

Yes, over something as simple as this. If all my decisions were this complex. But at three, and tired, that is all it takes.

Anywhoo....after tiring of the yelling, I picked her up and Boo and I marched off to the field, with her screaming "Nooooo. I want to go back to da cawr pawrk. I want to go UPPP the WAMP."

Sheep scatter as we pass. I didn't blame them a bit.

As we walk thru the field, this sheep was following us. He was either saying "Would you get that girl to stop crying" or, alternately, "watch out for the poop".


Most of the sheep were gathering by the edge of the field where the gate to go into the next field is. (Yes, we do actually walk through two fields.) By this point, Pea had stopped crying as she was fascinated by the sheep - I took the opportunity to move her to piggy-back. They stopped running away, as she wasn't screaming. (Her crying does have that same effect on me, too - I want to run away, as far and as fast as I can....)



Boo in the field. He loves this walk. (Can't you tell?)

I think his favorite part are the gates "so the sheep can't get away", he says.

After the sheep field, we walk through this field. Sometimes we find horses in it. Today it was empty.

Leaving the field, we walk down a footpath to the bridge.

We cross a bridge over the stream - the kids always stop to look at the "waterfall" underneath.

Then we walk up the footpath to get back to the Dingle.

It really is gorgeous, a bit surreal and peaceful.

However, there is one small downside to the experience.

Sheep poop.

Yes, I said poop. Bears poop in the woods, sheep poop in the fields. But you know, it IS a big field. You would think they would have the consideration to do there business anywhere other than the beaten down grass that the people walk on.*

But then again, they are sheep; they aren't all that bright. Unless, of course, they do it on purpose. Yeah, I can see a gang of renegade sheep, plotting to poop ON the path, just to watch us hopscotch around their dropping and swear when we step on some. (Note to Boo: Crocs are not the best for stepping in squishy doo.)

From in front of me, I heard "Oh, man...." and then "Mom, can I walk behind you?". So I had to march along, dodging droppings (with Pea riding piggy back) and yelling back "POOP!!!" as a warning.

It was a golden moment in parenting, people.

So if you come to visit, pack walking shoes, watch where you walk, and oh, yeah -

leave your shoes at the door.

*I write this only in jest; heck, if I can't get my 3-1/2 yr old to poo in the potty, I can't ask anything of sheep.

Make Me Laugh Monday - Poop Jokes

As I'm still functioning under a haze of antibiotics, antihistamines, expectorants, decongestants, anti-depressants, Princess Glitter nail polish fumes and coffee, I'm stealing yet another yuk from my dear old Dad's endless stream of email jokes.

This one is particularly relevant to our household on so many levels, where my five year old is as regular as Old Faithful, and has no hesitation yelling "I gotta poop" as he runs through the kitchen to the powder room. Actually, he has no shame at all when it comes to bodily functions: he has a tendency to announce "Mommy, I have to POOP" louder than necessary, wherever we are, particularly if we are at Costco (at a table, eating hot dogs), the grocery store, or at a restaurant (specifically, 30 seconds after the waiter delivers our meal to the table.)

And, being a perfectionist like his mother and father, he doesn't trust his own skills in the wiping department. So after he's done his bizness, he'll yell "Mom, I'm ready" -- and assume the position: hands on the toilet seat, bent over, heiney presented.

Honestly. Just ask cousin Sarah, who was the lucky girl to take him to the bathroom at Red Robin last week - yes, 30 seconds after her burger was delivered to the table. I think she was a bit shaken - that should be sufficient birth control for a few more years for her.....

So, without further delay (yes, shut up Jenn):


A little three year-old boy is sitting on the toilet. His mother thinks he has been in there too long, so she goes in to see what's up.

The little boy is gripping on to the toilet seat with his left hand and hitting himself on top of his head with his right hand.

His mother says "Billy, are you all right? you've been in there for a while."

Billy says, "I'm ok, Mommy. I just haven't pooped yet."

Mom says, "Ok, you can stay there a few more minutes...but, Billy - why are you hitting yourself on the head?"

Billy replies, "Well, Mommy, it works for ketchup!"