This has already made its rounds, but its worth a repeat. And expansion.
True story: Andy went to put chicken girls to bed at 7pm last night. He was gone for about 20 min and I didn't see him, but coop was shut up so I figured he saw our neighbor and was chatting with him out of my view. I went about my business inside.
Got a phone call.
Andy was stuck in the chicken coop. He didn't put a handle on the inside of the door when he built the coop - a detail that I, too, had overlooked - and because - well, I'm not exactly sure why. Anyways, he called me from inside the chicken coop to say he couldn't get the door open and would I come let him out.
OF COURSE I laughed out loud and sat down and filed my nails, chewed my cuticles, did some dusting and poked around in the junk drawer for a second or two....(HEY! This was too good to be true!)
Hannah went flyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying out of the house shouting, "Daddy's in the chicken coop, Daddy's in the chicken coop, Daddy's in the chicken coop!" at the top of her lungs - with only her shorts on (we'd had supper and her shirt had food on it so off it came). . . . and this is funnier if you know "the rest of the story" about the chicken girls. . . (email for an explanation if you need to)....because at this point I was cringing....
She didn't stop running until she got to the pen and started trying to open the door....she shouted, "Daddyo? Are you in there? Daddyo?" Andy answered yes very calmly.
When we opened the door Andy was cuddling one of the Rhode Island Reds. He placed her gently back on her roost over the inside door where she could potty all over the feed bucket and we came inside. Andy smelled vaguely of chicken. Not KFC.