There should probably be more punctuation in that last paragraph.
Anyhoo, come Saturday we walked to the store to buy some ridiculously overpriced day old bread that was probably three days old anyway, and then toddled off to the duck pond for a repeat of last Sunday's thrilling outing.
This was last Sunday:
Saturday was pretty much the same, if you imagine the pond as a smelly cesspool of mud and the ducks as being, well, not there. Awesome. Seems the council had drained the pond (the same week we've shifted into water restrictions)(Seriously, wtf?) so there were only a few sad looking ducks over yonder, looking hopeful while standing in a puddle about three feet in diameter. I parked Daniel in his stroller and chucked a few pieces of bread in their general direction, trying to lure them over. The ducks didn't jive to my futile girly throw attempts to feed their impoverished selves, so I took a few steps closer to them, and a few more girly throws later, had fashioned a kind of bread trail back to where we sat, with our motherlode of seven grained almighty goodness. Granted, I was only a few feet away from Daniel as I was doing this communing with nature shit, and was gone only a few seconds, but when I turned back, I copped an eyeful of him falling out of his stroller and headfirst into the dirt.
It gets worse, for while the whole head-meet-ground thing is bad enough on its own one would hope, that if one has to do it, that one can do it without an audience. I had about several hundred of the neighbourhood kids witness the event, and as if heralded by Daniel's screaming, they all came running over to join the fracas. One was carrying a duck, which was kind of strange, (also, a little smelly) and while any one of these kids could stand up in a court of law and point an accusing finger at me, this one was my little champion. "What happened?!" he asked, furrowing his little aproximately ten year old brow and proffering the duck for Daniel's perusal, and when I told him, he said "Aw, it's not your fault". Bless him. It was my fault entirely but I wasn't about to quibble with this earnest little kid and his kind heart.
The duck, if anyone is interested, had a broken leg, and as there was no water for it to paddle in, was unable to do much more than yaw to one side so the kid was going to take it home and do....I have no idea. I think he dumped it behind a bush in favor of running after his mates when they all took off over the hill and after some more little boy excitement.
Daniel, if anyone is interested, survived, both the bungee jumping without the bungee and the smelly duck in close proximity, and so did I. He with a headull of dusty hair and me with my motherguilt even more firmly ingrained.