Waterfoul Gone Wild

My Mom and I took Charlie to feed the ducks again today and Charlie loved it despite the potentially disasterous consequences of assuming that because he loves the adorable rubber ducks with whom he shares a bathtub each night he will also love twenty pound birds who honk and hiss and are tall enough to stare him in the eye as he sits in his stroller (Like the time we thought he would enjoy seeing a firetruck because he looks so cozy in his firetruck jammies).



That one took a piece of bread out of my mom's hand. He was close enough for me to notice the two rows of jagged teeth on the top half of his beak. It made me regret not putting shoes on Charlie. His little toes look so vulnerable and tasty. So, I'm sure, did his outstretched hand when he tried to touch one of the ducks on the back. The more experienced mother of the group pushed his hand back into the stroller with a slightly panicked "NO!" before I even knew what was happening.

The more patient ducks stood around in the parking lot behind us waiting for bread. They didn't get as much bread because we were too busy throwing bread to Jaws and his friends to keep them away from Charlie's toes.


Aren't they pretty? It's too bad that on one of our first dates Ryan had to defend me from a charging duck by gently kicking it to create a diversion so I had time to run up a flight of stairs to safety. He's my hero. He can also catch roaches.


Charlie says "My future therapist thanks you for putting her kid through Exeter."