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ageblue-aka-varnah-g:

elodieunderglass:

darlingofdots:

darlingofdots:

darlingofdots:

darlingofdots:

darlingofdots:

  1. my parents are on holiday in their mobile home
  2. they’re expected back this upcoming weekend
  3. I just spent ten days in my childhood home to keep an eye on things
  4. I have hidden 100 small yellow ducks all over the house
  5. I am very excited for my parents to be back

a first update: we have a neighbour who empties the mailbox while my parents are away and this morning I got a notification from our front door camera and watched said neighbour find what I know to be a tiny yellow duck in the mailbox (the camera is too far away to actually see), stare at it for a moment, and place it carefully back inside the mailbox

THE FIRST DUCK HAS BEEN FOUND

They just came home after a friend’s birthday party and I’m guessing went straight to bed, because my dad just sent a photo to the family group chat of the duck I placed on his bed with only the caption “thank you 😘” which makes me suspect they haven’t found any of the others yet. Or noticed that this one has a number on the bottom.

Tomorrow they’re going to find more of them and realise what they’re in for and that’s when the real joy begins.

I just spent half an hour on the phone with my dad mostly giggling maniacally while he complained at me. He thought it was a singular duck and then went to get fresh PJs and “another bloody duck” fell out and now he can’t rest until he has found as many as possible. It is half an hour to midnight, he is prowling the house trying to spot more ducks, and he begrudgingly admitted he still loves me anyway. My mother is significantly less invested but not caring does not protect you from The Ducks. I am absolutely ecstatic with how this is going.

If I ever need to explain my parents’ different personalities to somebody who does not know them, it will be like this: my dad, upon finding the second duck in his pyjamas, refused to believe that there would be more of them, and then went absolutely feral with the hunting instincts of a particularly determined bloodhound. He found 40 of them within about an hour. He has created an Excel sheet to keep track of which ones are still missing (I wrote numbers on the bottom of each duck). He keeps calling me to swear at me and then grumble that he still loves me.

A pile of about 40 small yellow duck figurines with numbers written on the bottom, laid out on a dark grey bedsheet.ALT


He did not appreciate it when I told him about zookeepers throwing a pumpkin full of meat into a tiger enclosure.

My mother, on the other hand, thinks the whole thing is hilarious. She loves the ducks. She has accepted the ducks. She’s sad that my dad insists on collecting the ducks because she thinks they should just stay where they are and become part of the decor. “I reckon I will find them when I find them,” she says. I told her that I had to replace one because the original number 4 dropped on the tiles and got decapitated and she thinks I should dramatically stage it next time I visit.

A view of a train station platform on a model railway from above. There is a yellow duck figurine sitting on the platform, comically large compared to the miniatures around it.ALT
A small yellow duck figurine perched on the handle of a garage door.ALT

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This is genius well done. Please tell me you labeled them 1-101 while skipping, say, 37, affording your father days of pleasure trying to find Duck 37.

Better yet: Hide duck 37 at YOUR house, so when they visit and see the bloody bird the father will explode and throw hands with you on the spot.