This morning, I headed over to my brother’s house to steal rhubarb from his steroid induced, larger than life, redder than ripe for the pulling rhubarb patch while he and his wife were at work. It’s really no problem, they hate rhubarb and the crop will replenish itself before they make it home for dinner.

We took the back roads and came across a re-enactment of some kind. There were people dressed in pristine equestrian attire, riding horses alongside about thirty bloodhounds, being led by someone who appeared to be in a borrowed, red, Santa’s suit jacket.

Our five year old had a lot of questions so I pulled over to the side of the road to watch things unfold.

Ellie: Horse—nay, Dog—woof. (We have a car game, when you see an animal you have to shout it out followed by the sound it makes. A game introduced by our children and one that is a life saver when you are nearly nodding off and someone shouts from the back seat, “Crow—CA!”)

Mommy, what are they doing?

Once again hit with a question I’m really not sure how to answer, checking the clock, it’s 10am. These brain teasers are starting earlier every day.

I started to explain a hunting re-enactment, not completely convinced that was actually what was happening. I couldn’t fully dismiss the idea that we had stumbled upon a group of lost hunters from the early 1800’s and some combination of the t.v. show Lost and the space time continuum was unravelling right before our eyes.

I told Ellie that a long, long time ago, in a land before Zehrs, people had to hunt for their dinners. I knew I was on thin ice if I mentioned anything about an animal dying and risked adding two years to her refusal to eat meat alongside the rest of the family.

Ellie: So they’re bad guys?

Me:  No, they’re not bad guys. These are people who love to ride horses and wanted to play pretend, re-visit a time before they were born.

Ellie: What did they hunt? Did they hunt nature?

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Me: Well, I think they hunted birds. (Nervously aware of using words like; chicken, duck, turkey or anything I might one day try to re-introduce to her dinner plate)

Ellie: Birds? What kind of birds? They killed nature? Bad guys!

I started talking in circles trying to point out the beautiful clothing, the elegant horses, the pack of dogs sniffing the ground as they made their way into the Bermuda-triangle of bushes.

Ellie: You mean they were hurting nature?

Me: Let’s wave to the nice, animal loving actors.

Ellie: Bunny—pfffft pfffft

Me: Are you going to help me with the rhubarb Ellie?

Ellie: Wow Mom. That reminds me. I have a lot to learn about birds.