A Typical Friday Night?

It's Friday evening shepherd group at the Clowns' house!

Among the attendees are... One very pregnant goat named Lois.  Another goat, Rhoda, who needs to be milked.  A dozen or so chickens (also known as "the ladies") free-ranging about the yard.  Eight children (half of them mine) free-ranging about the yard.

From inside the house, I hear Hayden screaming.  I run outside and scoop him up.  The kids are quick to tell me, "Jack threw a chicken and it hit Hayden."  ??????  Well, it was an accident of course, Jack didn't mean to hit Hayden with a flying chicken.  I stifle a giggle in my poor baby's neck as I hug him.  For Hayden's mental health I think it would be a good idea for him to reconcile with the chicken.   Hayden runs in the opposite direction.

But Grace and I are determined.  She straps Hayden into the swing so he can't run away.  Then she chases and catches the offending lady.  (Actually I can't tell them apart.  Maybe it was the guilty chicken, maybe not.) 

Here, Hayden, pet the lovely lady.

He won't actually touch the chicken, but he does manage a reconciliatory smile.  What a good sport!

Meanwhile, Mrs. Clown instructs Meghan, her Friday night milking partner, to catch Rhoda and bring her to the milking shed.

It's a challenge to catch a goat, as evidenced by my blurry photography.  You know, it all happens so fast!  By the way, that's Jack (the chicken-tosser) helping catch Rhoda.  I've got to say that Meghan is fearless when it comes to animals.  And everything else for that matter.  She doesn't get that from me... I won't so much as make eye-contact with the goats and chickens for fear of provoking an attack!  I have recurring nightmares of being featured on an episode of "When Good Chickens Go Bad".  Shudder.

Walking across the yard to the milking pen, Jack points out a lifeless ball of fluff on the ground.  "It's a dead bird, Jack," his mom says.  With great excitement, Jack responds, "Can we dissect it?!"  I silently say a prayer of thanks that my kids don't make such outlandish requests of me.

At the milking shed, Mrs. Clown sets up the buckets and starts the milking.  Meghan joins in.  They milk in unison.  They squirt each other a couple times.  Then Mrs. Clown steps out and I take this picture of my very happy daughter:

Then I go to rejoin the adults inside, dodging chicken poop every step of the way.  Mrs. Clown comes in with the fresh goat milk and makes some home-grown-kefir smoothies.  We pray and begin our Bible study.  Seriously unconventional.  But somehow it works for us.  ☺