We’ve started and stopped a whole ton of projects while we’ve been on this break. We’ve finished some of them, keep chipping away at some of them, and yes, we’ve still managed to procrastinate on some of them. The kids have followed suit, although schoolwork and daily chores keep them occupied. There have been a few projects they’ve started on their own, though.

G has been dying to expand his poultry collection and used some of the money he’s made selling eggs to purchase several new chicks. Unfortunately, because they’re not “regular” chickens, they probably won’t be hatched until later this summer. So, a few weeks ago, he managed to dig an old incubator out of the basement.

I vaguely remember purchasing it about 10 years ago, when we made our first foray into chicken raising. However, after realizing what a chore it was to monitor and maintain the incubator, we scrapped those plans in favor of just ordering more chicks via mail as needed. G, however, had apparently seen the incubator on a shelf during a trip to the basement, and as soon as he had more time on his hands than he knew what to do with, he began bugging to hatch chicks.

The guinea fowl have been exceptionally proficient at eating ticks, which is the main reason that we got them. However, our first experience with getting them through the mail did not end well for quite a few of them. Since we wanted to expand the flock, and not put them through the stress of the U.S. Postal Service, we decided that G could hatch some more of them. But first, they had to start laying eggs. And then, G had to find them. The problem with letting them run wild and free meant that their eggs could be anywhere, if they were even laying.

Having G play poultry detective kept him occupied for a few days, and he was eventually rewarded by finding their secret nest. Unfortunately, they were slow layers, one egg coming every few days. Finally, he gathered nine eggs and felt like he was ready to start the first batch. Do you have any idea how hard it is to replicate a process that birds with brains the size of a pea can manage to undertake without any help at all in the barnyard?

The eggs had to be cleaned, but not too much. They had to be gently marked. We had to stabilize the interior of the incubator, both for temperature and humidity. Too dry, and they would dehydrate, too wet, and they would drown in their shells. It was maddening trying to get everything just right. Then, the eggs have to be rolled on a schedule. For the first week, G was thrilled to be the attentive parent, and then, as 12-year-old boys are wont to do, he became distracted by other things.

The first milestone came two weeks into the process, when he could candle them to check for viability. Out of the first batch, seven of them showed evidence of growth. Then, we settled in for another few weeks of not much excitement and regular reminders of “G, did you turn your eggs today?” every 10 minutes.

Finally, the big day came. “Mom, mom, mom, mom, come quick!” I eagerly peered into the incubator and saw … nothing.

“Shhhh Mom, be quiet.” He gave a high-pitched whistle. Sure enough, one of the eggs, or maybe two, peeped back. Referring to my handy dandy Google search of how to hatch eggs, I was quickly informed that the keet’s arrival could still be days off. This didn’t deter G, though, who spent the next 48 hours next to the incubator whistling until his lips got sore.

It was almost two days later before the first crack appeared in the egg. I’ve seen kids wait patiently for Santa Claus. I’ve seen them wait for cookies to cool. I’ve seen a lot of patient waiting. This one took the cake, though.

Surprisingly, I had better things to do, but G moved his schoolwork station next to the incubator and was happy to keep me updated as the crack grew … one millimeter at a time. As the day went on, I started to worry about how much sleep I was going to have to lose to KeetWatch 2020.

G was more than happy to watch the lack of action unfold slowly all by himself, but since I know how things go “on the farm,” I didn’t want him to be alone in case things went south.

Finally, a toe managed to work itself through the crack, and just like that, the first little one popped out of the egg. Then, we got an even bigger surprise, as we had been so focused on that one little egg, we missed that his neighbor a few eggs over had been sneakily working his way out, too.

The next morning, it looked like the flock would be expanding yet again, as we had two more eggs with cracks in them. G watched them all day long, and Keet #3 wasted no time at all coming out of the egg, but #4 was proving to be stubborn.

Returning to Veterinarian Google, we discovered that coming out of the egg could easily take 24 hours and we shouldn’t panic. As we closed in on Hour 23, though, I started to get a little nervous. It was obvious the little one was trying but making absolutely zero progress. After reading all he bad things that can happen if humans try to intervene, G and I had a decision to make. We decided that if we just broke a tiny bit of the shell right around the initial crack, we shouldn’t do too much damage, because that part had to be pretty dried out already. As more of a foot finally started to emerge from the slightly larger hole, it became clearer what the problem was: The little foot appeared to be bent the wrong way.

G and I were able to work a little bit more of the crack open, enough for part of a beak to start poking through. This finally gave the little guy a little more leverage and he was able to start working the crack a little better himself. It took an excruciatingly long time, but eventually, he made it out. However, his one leg was bent around backward, and he could not even stand up. Father Hen G was very worried, but I told him we had to leave it up to nature, and after a few hours out of the egg, the leg finally began to relax and become slightly functional. It took almost a full week for the little guy to start walking on it normally, but he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, G started another dozen eggs and they’re due any day. For me, the excitement has worn off, so I’m hoping that he’s become enough of an expert to handle this on his own. Of course, the more proficient he becomes at hatching things, the less surprised I will be when we are overtaken by the chicken empire.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.