~Just Give Him the Egg!~
One late afternoon, as a family we did gather,
Down in the barn, we discussed how we'd rather.
Be working outside all the long day,
Hoeing and sowing and sweeping up hay.
One important chore was still left to be done,
And we knew a certain someone now considers it fun.
So into the coop he went with his daddy,
(A dedicated farmer and his little red laddie.)
I handed Dan a carton to hold all the eggs,
While Carl climbed on the roost and sat on his legs.
He "ohhed" and he "awed" as the nesting lid was lifted,
At all of the eggs our chickens had gifted.
Carl reached in with such pure childish delight,
Grasped an egg and held on with all his might.
He giggled at holding this delicate treasure,
(A child's fascination is sometimes hard to measure.)
Like a seasoned old pro, he knew just what to do,
He stuck that egg in the carton and reached down amongst the few,
Other eggs so nestled deeply in the straw,
By George! Carl...he collected them all!
The chickens, not knowing what this little creature may be,
They cackled and clucked and huddled close to me.
I told them they better get used to him here,
"He's not very big, you have nothing to fear."
After soothing several frazzled nerves,
I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the birds.
At least they amuse my little toddler child,
If it weren't for them, I fear he'd be wild!
Turning around I heard a familiar vocal noise,
(They say speech comes later with little boys.)
Carl's hands were reached up high as he silently did beg,
and I said, "For Heaven's sake, just give him an egg!"
"I don't want him to break it." Dan began,
As he held out an egg to that little grimy hand.
"Like we're going to miss one?" I asked with a lift of my brow,
Although I was secretly curious how Carl would handle the fowl.
All the way up our gravel drive,
Carl squealed in delight with a light in his eyes.
He was proud and pointing to the thing in his hands,
And my amazement and laughter mingled with Dan's.
High ho! The house! We made it at last,
Oh no! Carl's concentration was waning and fast!
The concrete stairs he loves to climb,
Were calling his name with a tempting chime.
With his egg still in his dimpled clutch,
The stepping and gripping were evidently too much!
He cried out suddenly in the mist of his usual ramble,
(It's a really good thing Carl likes his eggs scrambled!)