1. Last year, after Turken came in from collecting the eggs, he and I had a conversation about our animals.
T: Why do we have dogs?
Me: To keep coyotes and other wild animals away.
T: Why do we have chickens and pigs?
Me: We have chickens for their eggs and pigs for their meat.
T: When will the pigs start laying the meat?
Teaching young farm kids about the realities of being omnivores is a process. With each new year, when animals disappear into and, two weeks later, big boxes get picked up from the same place, more in-depth conversations occur. I don't offer information unless the child initiates the conversation. I don't sugar-coat things, but I don't get graphic, either. I simply cringe each year, wondering, will this be the one he finally gets it? And what will his reaction be?
This year, I do believe Turken finally understands the role of the butcher.
As we pulled into the parking lot...
Turken: This is where we dropped off the pigs.
Me: Yes, it is.
Turken: Are we picking them up?
Me: Yes we are.
|I know the boxes say "mixed nuts". Trust me. There's pig in them there boxes.
Turken: Where are they?
Me: In the boxes. The pigs become meat.
Turken (with eyes as big as saucers): Ooooohhhh.
So far, so good. We'll see how it goes once we start eating it.
2. Why do people in the US even say the phrase "big as saucers"? We don't drink tea with cups and saucers. If you'd take a poll, I bet most people in this country would associate the word "saucer" with the word "flying", not cup. Turken's eyes were not as big as flying saucers.
What's that? No one in the US uses that phrase? Just me and women over the age of 90?
Consider that fact noted.
3. I'm sure you recall the fact that someone is inflicting massive pain and injury on our family with the use of voodoo dolls. (I'm using the term "fact" loosely here. (Just to prove point. (and avoid the truth (The truth being my family is full of a bunch of klutzes.)))) For two months, we have been injury-free.
We got complacent.
Then on Sunday...BAM!
Buttercup was helping to clean up some toys in the hallway. Instead of picking them up, she was kicking them into a pile. She took one massive swing with her foot to kick one, then missed the toy altogether. Instead, her toe connected with the door jamb.
One trip to OrthoIndy later, and Buttercup is out of soccer and the city cross country meet until her broken toe heals.
That makes 6 debilitating injuries for our family in one year. You can't tell me black magic doesn't have something to do with this.
The (fake) reward still stands.
4. On my way out to feed some fruit to the chickens, I thought of you all and grabbed my camera. Guess what I found when I got out to the pen? Yup. A chicken on the net. Except this time, it was a different, heavier chicken. She wasn't in the know about the trampoline effect of the net. I took a video of me trying to get her off. Not very graceful, that hen. And not a very good videographer, that woman with the camera. Another sideways video. I forgot how to fix it. Next time, it will be awesome. And a more interesting video. This one? Meh. And yet, I included it.
5. It's amazing how one activity can elicit such different reactions in parent and child. Take War (with a deck of cards) for instance. Cuckoo finds it to be the most enjoyable game, causing him to giggle every single time he wins a match-up. (As in, every time he puts a card down higher than mine.) At the same time, I find the game to be so completely, mind-numbingly boring I start falling asleep. My body is now trained like Pavlov's dog. As soon as the cards are dealt, my brain sends out the "Naptime Everybody! Heart, slow down! Eyes, close!" signal.
He wants to play it at least 5 times a day, which means I am in a perpetual state of almost comatose, regardless of how many hours of sleep I got the night before.
6. Speaking of Cuckoo's one track mind, I regret the start of another new "game". It's been chilly here in the mornings, so I wear my robe around the house. (And out to the chicken coop and in the car when I take Phoenix to his carpool. Just call me Grandma.) Earlier this week, Cuckoo woke up and, as usual, climbed onto my lap. He was in flimsy little PJs and said he was cold. I wrapped him up in my robe with me, then to secure him, I told him to put his arms in the arm wholes with my arms. He thought that was fantastically funny, especially when I would stretch or wave my arms, and he had no choice but for his arms to do the same. I found it quite amusing myself. The first day.
The second day, he remembered, and even though he wasn't cold, climbed into my robe. It was slightly amusing.
Day 3, not so much.
Day 4, I'm barely tolerating it. He's not exactly calm and quiet. My body is taking a beating.
I'm thinking Day 5 will include me quickly ditching the robe behind the couch before he makes it down the steps.
7. October break starts today! With the kids going to different schools now, they don't have the same break, but we do have one day of overlap. I'm thinking we'll go do something fun at a state park. You know, since Indiana takes it's job seriously, keeps the budget balanced, and keeps public places open to the public.
Have a lovely day!