Yesterday Charlie Brown and Punkinhead were sitting in the yard. Gracie, our 4-legged black baby, had, uncharacteristically, pooped in the yard a few days prior.

Be reminded that it’s fall, and thus, fly season in Colorado.

But otherwise, my two guys are out in the yard, backs to the house – engaged in what we call male bonding- the autumn leaves are vibrant against a crisp blue sky as the slight breeze caresses their skin with the promise that winter is coming.

The idyllic scene is interrupted with Punkinhead’s clear little voice, making known for all the world around that;

“Shoo-flies eat POOP!”
First, it cracks me up that my little boy calls flies ‘shoo-flies,’ but second, the above statement is precisely why they are called just that. Not to mention why I hate for one to land on me! *shudder*
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