Pigs and Ticks
OK, it’s 25 minutes after midnight, just finished the dishes, laundry still a rumpled dump on the living room floor. I’m Mister-Mommin’ it. Wife taking a richly-deserved few days at a yoga retreat with her mom after I spent 2.5 months zipping around the country as she held the fort/farm/family. I am getting hit upside the head with exactly what she’s been doing for us while I’ve been toddling around making farmer snort jokes. But of course the truth is it’s delightful to be home with the kids again. Two recent favorite moments:
- Nine-year old decides to refresh the pig wallow while barefooted and wearing her swimsuit. Crawls right in there, over the pig panels, over the electric fence, toes smack in the mud. The pigs cavort and snort, grunt and gambol comically. The show is so delightful the two-year old and I pull up a lawn chair and for ten minutes just sit and watch. Who needs the Dish?
- When you come from these parts there are some things you learn young. I am trying to give the two-year-old the quick once-over after her evening pre-bedtime bath when she pushes me away and says, “Daddy, I wanna do tick check!”
OK. Early breakfast before summer school class in town, laundry will remain rumpled. A peek into both bedrooms, then to my own.
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