Tis the season.....

Without fail every year around this time Internet, someone brings up the dreaded "baby chicks".

Perhaps its because of Spring, Easter, new life.........I don't know. But some how, every year, someone reminds me of those "baby chicks".

You see, in Mrs. Wallace's fourth grade class we hatched chicks in an incubator. Internet, it was one of my favorite parts of elementary school!

That is.......................before they died at MY house.

I came clean about this secret years back. I had to.......it was part of my healing.

I was the lucky student that got to bring the three living chicks home over the weekend. I can remember it as clearly as yesterday. My mother picked me up that Friday afternoon. She came into the school with an old yellow blanket that we used to cover the box we transported them home with. They were adorable! Plump, yellow and fluffy! Of course we played with them once we got home. We put newspapers down and let them walk around.

We made it through Friday night and through Saturday only to wake up Sunday morning to a dead chick.

It was NOT GOOD Internet!

And here's where my hysterical-ness has left me a little blurry. I think I made it through the first death okay. Yes there were tears but I pulled it together enough to make it to church. But then it got bad. Oh SO BAD, Internet. I returned home from church to find two more dead chicks. Did you catch that? ALL THE CHICKS WERE DEAD. All the chicks that I was responsible for!

You guys, I cried. And cried and cried. I'm pretty sure my mother didn't know what on earth to do with me as I declared I was never going back to school again!

So what did she do? She went through that phonebook and called every person with the last name of Wallace until she found my teacher. And they discussed how on earth they were going to get me back into school Monday morning.

The plan...............I was to meet Mrs. Wallace in the classroom early that day, bypassing the rest of the class that would be lined up outside. And from there she would handle it.

So that's exactly what I did. And when I got there, she told me how it's not good to lie but for this one time, it would be okay.

So lie we did.

We told the class that we brought the chicks back to the farm over the weekend.

And you know what Internet?

They all bought it.

And I survived the rest of fourth grade.

Jen  – (April 1, 2010 at 1:50 PM)  

Oh my gosh! This is so funny! I know, I know, it wasn't at the time. Poor you! Your poor mom, and your poor teacher! You know that woman was agonizing over what to do all weekend, right? I'm sure you still can't look at a baby chick without getting a little teary.

jenny  – (April 1, 2010 at 1:58 PM)  

okay, this had to have sucked when it happened ... but the story now is PRICELESS. when did you come clean to your class? :)

Robyn  – (April 1, 2010 at 2:50 PM)  

That is hilarious. On another note, I always wonder how many of the chicks die in what ever they are packaged in at the post office. It is so weird to go in there and hear cheeping.

Fishsticks and Fireflies  – (April 2, 2010 at 6:04 PM)  

I have to admit that I am laughing way to hard at your expense on this one! I can only imagine how traumatic it was at the time, and I am just the same - I would still feel guilty all these years later!

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