boom, boom, pow

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Chuck and Welly are now full-grown ducks. No more fluffy ducklings. They now actually quack and drive me nuts with their neediness. I made the mistake of feeding them from the window once so now they are convinced that every time they quack incessantly at the window, food will appear. Fatties. They are so lazy and fat, in fact, that they do not fly. That’s right, I managed to have the only two non-flying ducks ever. Typical. Instead, they like to dig holes and beg for meal worms. I felt like such a failure as a mama duck. Like somehow it was my fault they’re defective and would rather dig holes than fly. Naturally, I decided that they needed to learn and I would teach them how, since I’m such an expert at flying. They’re pretty good a flapping and running so I figured all they needed was a little pixie dust and they were set. We also all watched Rio a few times in the name of research and for inspiration. They didn’t appreciate it as much as I did. Also they were pretty pissed that I wouldn’t let them eat the carpet. But they did bounce along to the songs. Chuck and Welly really like dancing. Maybe if the flying thing doesn’t work out, I can get them little tap shoes and we can start our own Vaudeville act. They already look amazing in bowties.

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Husband has a video of my endeavors but I think PETA would find me and wouldn’t be understanding about my desire to be a good mama duck, so use your imagination. Also, I look positively stupid especially since he made it into a montage set to “Boom, Boom, Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what happens when Fergie says “boom”. Or “pow”. Don’t worry, no ducks were harmed today. Technically, no ducks flew either but there was lots of squawking and splashing and general mayhem. Afterward, we all had a lovely picnic of meal worms and hard boiled eggs. Then Chuck and Welly did what they do best and took a nap. I’m afraid that maybe they’re scarred for life and will never fly. Oops. Thankfully they’re happy chilling on the ground digging holes all day and bouncing along to musicals. My Google search history now includes “how to start a Vaudeville troupe” and “how much money would people pay to see ducks dance?”

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I love comments. Did you also threaten to burn down your kitchen? Do you know how to get dogs (or ducks) to stop digging holes? Please tell me about it.

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