Having a human baby is a surefire way to make life more nuts. It is definitely more challenging than getting a fur child or feather child but is also more rewarding. The Little Fulla is three weeks old now and growing like there’s no tomorrow. He’s a very precious and cute wee thing, especially when he’s poohing. Not that the act of poohing is cute, but rather his repertoire of ‘poop faces’.

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The Husband and The Little Fulla

As well as tending to The Little Fulla’s many needs, recovering from a 3rd degree tear has kept me sore, tired and at home. So there hasn’t been too much going on around the place. On arriving home from the birth centre I was delighted to find the daffodils out the front of our place had opened in flower to greet us. The fur child was extremely needy but has since resigned herself to the fact that she isn’t the main focus of attention anymore. The feather children were all laying by the time we came home and Strider and Frodo had discovered how to escape from their run and chill out in the orchard. Poor Sam was too large to follow them out so didn’t get an exciting adventure.

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Daffodils along the front fence

We did have a bit of an incident yesterday. I was looking outside at the chickens in the vege garden pen, where The Husband had put them earlier, when I suddenly realised there was a large intruder in there and another intruder in the orchard. The intruders were pigs and they were trotting around like maniacs! We rushed over and I ushered the frightened chickens back to their run while The Husband corralled both pigs in the vege pen. They were saddleback pigs and the only lead we had was having seen two saddlebacks at the house across the road one day. Unfortunately, those neighbours weren’t home so The Husband trolled the street and asked another neighbour about the pigs. By the time he got back the pigs had busted out of the vege pen fence into the orchard and he was none the wiser. Thus, we assumed the pigs were from across the road and herded them over there and shut their gate. And our gate. And that was the end of that.

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Oh, the madness – foreign pigs in my garden
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