We bought two more chickens to add to our little brood this year. And since my children are beyond the toddler stage our basement has turned into a broodery of sorts for a couple of friends who wanted chickies, but couldn't keep them at their home until they are able to be outside. It's sorta like chickie babysitting.
Aidan has to sleep with the door closed because he was having trouble with all of the racket outside his room. Night time is apparently play time for the little creatures. Actually, last night, I was having trouble sleeping because I could hear them from upstairs. (which must have been the reason I had that dream about finding a monkey in the backyard that turned into a seed that when you planted it would spread love around to everything near)The chickens were trying to sort out chicken sleeping arrangements by flying into each other's boxes for a sleepover which inevitably launched a cacophony of squawking and cheeping until things were sorted out and they settled down. That is, until somebody else decided to disrupt the arrangements again....over and over.
They are in that awkward teenager/small freaky looking dinosaur stage. Everyday we pick them up and tell them what wonderful egg layers they will be, hoping the power of words will endue them with mighty egg laying super ninja skills. It's worth a try anyway.