I had big plans for this day that we had nothing on the schedule. Lots of math, writing, SQUILT—even throwing in our most recent Little Passports package.
But we woke up to this:
And so we stood hunched over the incubator…basically all day. Twenty-six hours later, we have four baby chicks and (hopefully!) many more on the way.
When we found that the chicks had pipped (this means they carved out a small hole to breath from), we knew that the birth day would be today or tomorrow. We watched the chicks stick their little beaks out of the holes and move their egg teeth around. The egg tooth is a little, hard cap on the end of a chick’s beak that it uses to break out of the shell. Hours later, a few of them started zipping. Zipping is when they turn themselves around in their shells, pecking out an exit. We watched the egg membranes expand and collapse with the chicks’ breathing. We watched the eggs rock back and forth as the chicks struggled. We gasped when the egg finally popped open and each chick (quite ungracefully) made its appearance into the world. Well…into the incubator.
The fun didn’t end there, though. After spending twenty or so days in the cramped confines of their eggs, they needed to learn how to walk—and it was quite comical. They’re loud babies—squawking furiously to each other as they drunkenly make their way around the incubator, bumping into walls and each other, scaling the other eggs. They came out like little wet puppies, and now they’re drying off. Once they’re little fluff balls, we will scoop them out and put them into the brooder.
So we didn’t do math. We didn’t do writing. We didn’t do music or geography. But oh man, did we do science! (And gym.)