Babysitting Mr. Chicken

Sunday was General Conference, which meant our tradition of homemade cinnamon rolls and watching church in pajamas. My mom's cinnamon roll recipe is fantastic but makes way more than we can eat (wimps!), so we decided to share with some neighbors and our friend Angela. When we took the rolls to her house, she let Mabes ransack her room, and Mabes discovered Mr. Chicken. As we were about to leave, Angela asked Mabes if she wanted to take Mr. Chicken home, take care of him, and show him a good time until Monday night, when Angela comes over to watch 24. (Kind of like our own 24, but instead of nonstop edge-of-your-seat terrorist-killing Jack Bauer action, it's just Mabes and a giant stuffed chicken hanging out. So really, nothing like 24.) Mabes promised she'd take good care of Mr. Chicken, and would report the next day.

We brought Mr. Chicken home, and of course, Mabes decided he wanted to play dress ups. I asked if perhaps Mr. Chicken was actually a girl, and Mabes said "no, even boys like to be pretty."

She checks his crown and compliments him on his dress, and then they play trains.

And then they dance.

Bedtime! By this time, Mr. Chicken and Rocket had become acquainted and were getting along swimmingly.

The next morning, Mabes informed me that Mr. Chicken was, in fact, a girl. It must have come up in their late night heart-to-heart. We had some errands to run, so Miss Chicken came along for the ride.

Mabes decided that Miss Chicken wanted to go for a walk. Sadly, she didn't fit well in the stroller and it didn't come with a lap extension belt. I improvised.

Mabes stopped to pick up a "magic leaf" to show Miss Chicken. Again, I don't know how she decides which things on the ground are magic, but at least this magic item didn't end up in her nose.

And then Mabes decided Miss Chicken would prefer a faster pace. I can only imagine what passers-by must have thought of seeing a three-year-old trying to maneuver a giant stuffed chicken in a stroller.

And since it was a nice day (right before the stupid-freezing-weather-in-April blew in), Mabes and Miss Chicken enjoyed a picnic lunch on the balcony.

They played the rest of the afternoon, and we had chicken for dinner. Mabes didn't seem to notice, but Miss Chicken seemed a little concerned. When Angela came, she told Mabes that since Miss Chicken was having so much fun with her, she could keep her a little longer. So now, when people at the grocery store ask Mabes her name or how old she is, Mabes launches into stories about Miss Chicken. It's a nice change of pace from the Rocket stories.

Oh, and my mom has a blog now, proving that she is the cutest moomy ever. Yay, moom! I'm thinking it will be nice to have 3 blogs to document the madness that will be next week at Sarah's. Mabes and I were talking about how crazy fun it was going to be, and Dave just shook his head and muttered, "poor Joel." Good times!