Picking up raisins

My angelic son's new "funny thing to do" is to toss his bowl of raisins/goldfish/cinnamon bunnies/whatever in the air and shout "ugh oh." I am no fool. I know he is doing this on purpose. I do not put up with it. I ask him to clean up his mess, he doesn't, so I tell him that I will clean it up but then he doesn't get the snack back, he runs away like a mad man.

Earlier today, as I am cleaning up a pile of raisins off the floor (after Danny bolted), I thought that a raisin might taste good, so I picked one up and ate one. It was delicious until I recalled a story my mom (yes, I have one too) used to tell people.

Back when I was very young my family lived in Mesa, AZ. We had a lot of pets, it was borderline farm house livin'. We had a goat, seven chickens, about thirty-thousand bunnies, a few dogs and the occasional goose.

The story goes that my mother was picking up a bunch raisins (or was it apple seeds?), either way as she picks up the umpteenth apple seed/raisin she realizes that she actually has a handful of chicken poop. Somebody let the chickens in the house again.

Had texting, or even cell phones existed then I imagine my mother would have sent her bff a text saying: "WTF, chicks in house, handful of chikshit. SMH"

I'll admit, that could be misinterpreted.

I don't own any livestock, but I won't be eating raisins off the floor anymore. After-all, what good are our parents mistakes if we don't learn from them??