TheBanyanTree: Biker Pig update and The Coop Scooper 2.0

[Julie Anna Teague]

At the risk of repeating myself, there is never a dull moment at the
Teague ranch.  I would savor a dull moment.  Just one tiny moment in which
I sit down and sigh quietly, the laundry folded, pantry stocked, bills
payed, cat fed, lists crossed off all the way down, pondering what on
earth I'm going to do with myself.  I hear dull moments are over-rated,
but I'd try anything once. 

Before I launch into the latest adventure, an update for those of you who
read the saga of the battery-operated pig in the biker outfit.  Andy's pig
won second place in the pig race, and he came home with fifty-four
dollars.  If we figure in the cost of pig costuming, fresh batteries, and
the two magazine subscriptions I got roped into buying, I think we broke
even.  Not that I recouped any of my costs--the fifty four bucks
disappeared quickly into the top secret vaults of the First National Bank
of Andy.  Afterall, what's his is his, and what's mine is ours. 

But, onward.  Yesterday after school my fourth grader, Seth, came home and
the first words out of his mouth were, "I'm in trouble."  It seems that
his "invention", which I'd been hounding him about for weeks, was due the
next day (today).  We had one foot out the door already to get to number
one son's wrestling match, and he was going to his dad's house immediately
afterwards for his weekly visitation.  I was miffed.  

The invention he had come up with was "The Coop Scooper", a mechanism for
easily cleaning out a chicken coop.  He had been lacking inspiration for
this project, so I told him, "Think of something you don't like to do and
find a way to make it easier to do it."  Thus, the coop scoop.  After
chewing him out for not knowing when this thing was due and for putting me
off when I told him he should work on it, I offered a number of helpful
suggestions for getting the thing done.  He didn't like any of them and
said he'd just do it at his dad's house.  I told him his dad was very
likely not going to help him with it. He accused me of saying something
unnecessarily mean about his dad.  Ok, I know when to shut up.  Figure it
out when you get there then, I told him. 

Fast forward to 7:50 this morning.  (We leave for school a half hour
later.)  His dad drops him off at the door.  Seth comes in crying.  He has
no invention.  His dad wouldn't help him.  His dad didn't have any
cardboard.  Etc.  I imagined him standing at the Invention Convention in
the school gym, the only ten year old with no invention, and I caved in on
my standard "let consequences be consequences" approach to these things. 
In the next twenty minutes we built "The Coop Scooper 2.0"  (2.0, because
his first idea was going to be next to impossible to model with cardboard
in the next twenty minutes).  We worked like an army unit, me barking
orders and him moving on them for a change.  The Coop Scooper Model 2.0
consisted of: a little cardboard coop, some straw from the real chicken
coop out in the yard, a polaroid picture of our six chickens on the side
of the coop, and the scoop mechanism--a piece of wood which, when drawn
through the coop (box) by ropes (string), scoops the straw into a compost
area (circle of cardboard).  It was really pretty cool.  I sent my kid off
to school with an invention, a smile on his face, and the sure knowledge
that he is going to be personally responsible for shoveling some real
honest to goodness chicken poop when he gets home today. 

 

Julie

jateague at indiana.edu