We have four new baby chicks. Of course they're new. It's not like we're going to have old chicks. I'm turning into my mother. I used to rib her about saying somebody had a new baby. "It's not like they're going to have an OLD baby, now is it?" My wit was wasted on her. Perhaps on you, as well.
In case you've never been up close and personal with baby chicks, they cheep a lot. A LOT. Which reminds me of a story from when Genius was in kindergarten. His teacher contacted somebody who raised chickens so she could get some fresh eggs. Every year, she brought in an incubator so the kids could see the miracle of chicks hatching. Once they were all out, she kept them in the classroom for a few weeks.
Genius was a good student. An adult pleaser. He acted like a little politician. Or perhaps a salesman. Before I could stop him during his preschool year, he had the middle school secretary out in the parking lot, opening up the doors to our new car, explaining the child door locks to her. I asked her why she left her desk for that, and she said, "But he's so persuasive!"
The kindergarten teacher put the box of newly-hatched chicks next to the table where Genius sat. She thought she was doing this as a treat for him, I'm sure. Or maybe to give him something to do when he was bored. She was, after all, the teacher who referred him for testing in the gifted program. "He just seems more mature than the other students. And they irritate him. He thinks of himself as an adult. Those are usually my gifted students." Indeed, she had quite a successful track record with her referrals.
About a week after the hatching, I mentioned the chicks to Genius. "Do you like having those chicks in the classroom? Are they fun to watch?" We did not have chickens at home back then.
Genius sighed. "All day long, it's CHEEP! CHEEP! CHEEP! I never want to hear another chick in my life. I wish we could get rid of them already!"
Funny. Genius does not enjoy our chicks the way Hick, The Pony, and I enjoy them.