Roving gangs of nanny goats
On my way to the running trail this morning, I got stuck behind a mob of mommy joggers crossing the bridge over the Willamette. Five women, all with jogging strollers with those big sturdy tires, one baby wailing, taking up the entire width of the bridge. Luckily, they went left on the other side and I went right, but I spent the next ten minutes trying to decide what to call them.
A posse? A gaggle? A pack? A bevy? A brood? Ooh, that’s a good one for mothers.
What if they were nannies, not parents? Are they then a flock? A herd? A swarm? A troop?
A murder? Appropriate for my podcast.
You get the picture. It kept me occupied during my run.