The Toddler Chronicles, No. 23
Lyla went deer hunting.
I took Lyla deer hunting again a few days ago. We’ve been going to a friend’s private land where my ground blind has taken up temporary residence. She’s been out several times this year—enough for me to know her average blind time is about two hours and her personal record is four. Also enough for me to know that, if I’m smart, I need to bring her tablet… and the headphones, which I have forgotten more times than I’ve remembered.
The two deer I’ve shot this year were both recovered without her. That could just be timing, or it could be related to her relentless consumption of fruit snacks, Fruit by the Foot, and deer jerky while in the blind.
I also know we miss out on 100% of the deer when we don’t go into the woods in the first place, and that an uneventful time outdoors is better than an uneventful time indoors. And there’s the whole “core memories” thing, or whatever the kids are calling it these days. Like the one I’m about to share—something Lyla likely won’t remember unless she’s reminded by family or eventually reads it here (because the internet is forever).
It was just after 5 p.m. Sunset was at 5:24, and we were in the blind getting ready to pack things up. That’s when Lyla let out a long, loud fart that smelled remarkably similar to a dead animal.
As an aside, I’m not sure whether deer are spooked by human farts or not, but even if they are, I don’t think this one would’ve done it. It smelled far closer to midsummer-on-hot-asphalt roadkill than anything that ought to be produced by a four-year-old.
The following sequence of events unfolded over approximately fifteen seconds.
Immediately after the dead-animal scent escaped her bowels, she abruptly hopped out of her chair and said, in a voice that was both serious and surprised, “Oh. I need to check for poop.”
Before I had time to react, she dropped both her pants and underwear to her ankles and bent over to inspect the situation through multiple clothing layers.
“Nope. No poop!” she announced confidently after completing her investigation.
“Were you expecting poop in your underwear?” I asked.
She replied, “No, but you can never know for sure,” and pulled her pants and underwear back up.
Local legend says that blind is still trying to air itself out, and that animals may return to that radioactive zone within the next five to ten years.
