All Hail Gladys.

Everyone, meet Gladys. Gladys is our $20 porch goose and the real head of the household. Yes, you read that right. Twenty. dollars. In the middle of a pajama-clad, slipper-wearing, just- got-my-kids-down-for-nap, doom-scrolling frenzy, there she was on Marketplace. I jumped in my car to rescue this feathered queen from a sweet old man (who was way more interested in selling me his furniture than the goose herself, and was very confused why I was essentially jumping up and down to retrieve her Gooseness. He was also super impressed I carried this thing by myself even though I for sure almost broke my sacrum). But I came, I saw, I conquered, and she is now proudly guarding the house as our porch goose.

Gladys arrived like she owned the place, and spoiler alert, she does. Her favorite hobby? Staring down traffic like she’s the self-appointed neighborhood watch captain. Cars, bikes, pedestrians, dogs - none escape her intense, beady gaze. Occasionally, she pauses her vigil to politely inform dog owners that their pets have left a mess. Only once though, because manners matter. But make no mistake: she expects immediate compliance.

When I first introduced Gladys to the kids, my preschooler PJ gave me the look — the one that says I've accepted that I was born into true madness and chaos. Then came the question: “Why is there a duck on the porch?” I tried explaining that she’s a goose, not a duck, but apparently in toddler world, all big honking birds are ducks. Gladys accepts toddler logic, though she was a tad offended. She holds no grudges as long as the snacks and pats are in constant supply.

Now, our family has a sacred and strict household rule: every time we pass Gladys on the porch, we all must give her a pat. No exceptions. No negotiations. It isn’t optional. It’s not a suggestion. It’s protocol. And if you think my kids would forget or rebel, think again. My preschooler caught me off guard the other day by scolding me for failing to properly honor the Goose. If you ever wondered who’s really running the show around here, it’s not me. It’s Gladys.

She’s serving as our reminder that sometimes family fun is a cement porch goose (currently un-clothed because I am shopping to properly fill her armoire). Amidst the chaos of motherhood, deadlines, crazy schedules and life’s never-ending madness, Gladys offers a strangely comforting constant. She's the feathery queen who silently judges us all, and demands nothing less than respect.

She is also a ridiculously effective way to get my kids out the door. For we must honor the Goose before getting in the car, and that triumphs over any tantrum. (She is 100% going in my Will. You won't find her Gooseness at an estate sale.)

All hail Gladys. May her reign be long, her honks loud, and her naps uninterrupted.

xoxo

Madi