I Don't Even Like Donald Duck

Today was one of those perfect Spring days. It was warm out, no clouds, just a little breeze, and no one in my house was sick. It was the perfect day for a picnic.

We packed our basket- okay, it was a brown paper bag, b/c we didn't get the extravagant picnic basket we registered for, when we got engaged- and headed to the park. We found the perfect table, right beside the creek that, due to recent rain and snow, actually had moving water. I unloaded the food and we sat back to enjoy our lunch.

And then, I heard it. HONK! HONK! A stupid goose was invading our perfect picnic. I began having flashbacks to my childhood. . . It wasn't pretty. . . It was just plain scary. . .

For some insane reason, my sisters and I convinced our parents that we wanted a pet duck. We got one, named it Ducky Lucky, and lived in fear of it, every time we went outside. He was the absolute meanest animal ever put on Earth.

We had an above ground pool in our backyard. We would walk down the steps, and Ducky Lucky would wait until we were completely in the grass and would start chasing us. He would bite the backs of our legs and flap his wings. Then, he would circle the pool, over and over again, waiting for us to get out of the pool. He was a nightmare on two legs.

To this day, I can not stand ducks or anything that resembles them. Geese resemble them. A lot. And, this one decided to join our picnic.

It kept getting closer and closer. When it would get to close for my comfort, my heroes, Justin and Maddie, would chase it away. After chasing it 3 or 4 times, the goose finally jumped past the trees lining the creek and landed in the water.

I was relieved, to say the least. That is, until Justin opened his big mouth.

"Now, we have no idea on where it will land when it decides to come back. Or when."

Thanks, honey. Relaxing picnic is now over.

And, Maddie, wanting to join in the conversation said:

"Yeah, Mommy- you should write a blog about this."

She read my mind.