Since the sun is making a special guest appearance in our garden, Noah and I are trying to make the most of getting outside. Phew! I was going stir crazy - and Noah had morphed into some kind of crazed TV addict wanting back-to-back DVD viewing which was also driving me crazy.
Noah has taken on the role of carer of the ducks. He usually brings them out in the mornings, and puts them to bed at night. He was doing so the other night when all was silent outside. I thought to myself that it was a little curious, since he is so keen on talking and giving me a blow by blow account of... everything. I stuck my head out - and there's little Noah, holding the duck by the neck.
My parents often tell me a story about when I was small, and went next door to see their ducklings. I returned, triumphant, holding a ducky by the neck for them to see. Sadly I killed it. Hopefully this is not a genetic thing. At least Noah's duck was still kicking it, and promptly ran away once I asked Noah to release it.