So we go up to the supermarket today to buy some Cream of Tartar to complete our playdough making. Simple task.
I smelt it before we saw it. The animal farm. Without George Orwell. Small animals right out in front of the supermarket. Like being at a fancy Chinese restaurant and choosing which animal will you dine on tonight? Oh I'll take that little piglet running about screeching. Not.
Of course we had to go in and pat the animals. Man it stank. Seriously. I am a country girl, I am well familiar with the warm smell of cow pats. But this was something else entirely. Oh and the parents letting the kids chase the small animals around. Fail.
In fact, I think the whole scheme was FAIL! Too many small animals in a small enclosure with small people chasing them around on small feet, squealing small squeals.
A 2 week old goat (oh man - soooo cute!).
I quickly herded my smalls out of that pen, and as we were leaving the piglet started squealing and the Doctor remarked that he hoped the piglet was not dying. Yep. Me too.
Small animals. Supermarket. Squealing small pig. Not cool. Or am I being a fuddy duddy?