Which I will use to tell a family storing about 'feeding the duckies'.
It was 1998 and we were living in the Netherlands, with four little ones. Cees was 6, Tim was 4, Tara was 2, and Jane was 1. We were visiting my mother who lives not too far away from a nice water with many many ducks. Because of this being a kids-rich neighborhood, the ducks were used to being fed well and often and would immediately come over if they noticed little ones.
We had a bunch of bread crusts and headed out to feed the duckies. All the kids were bouncy and happy, seeing ducks so up close. Kids moving everywhere, ducks moving everywhere, ducks fighting each other to be the first in line to reach the kids. Lots of noise, lots of splashing. Until suddenly there was a splash which was not a duck. Instead it was a toddler falling into the water... Luckily the water wasn't deep and we could get her out easily and she was not as much hurt as in shock that she suddenly was WET all over. She was not amused at all.
We cut short our ducks visit that day and went home to the grandparents to get her into dry clothes. I am sure Tara has forgotten all about this by now, but I still remember every time I see mallards.
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