Future farmer of America
At age five, the world is his oyster.
He thinks he’s king of the mountain. His days are filled with joy and jubilation, triumph and tribulation. Oh, and the most important element: carefree abandon. Apparently it’s a prerequisite for boyhood.
And his sisters! They’re so full of vibrant energy they seem to hang in mid-air on occasion. That’s when I say, “Why don’t you go play in the barn? Why don’t you go jump on the trampoline? Why don’t you go hang out with your horses or curry your cows or pet your pigs?”
Sometimes a mother just needs a break from the extraordinary amount of creative energy that seeps from every pore on their dusty little bodies.
You don’t have to ask him twice, ever. At least not about the barn and animal stuff. Making a bed or cleaning up messes is an entirely different matter. I’ve come to realize that a boy’s goal in life — at least up until this age — is all about creating messes. Just because. Just because it’s cool to see what happens. And don’t bother trying to reprimand him about the mess. He wasn’t being bad, he was experimenting. Learning. Wrapping his mind around the way of things.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
So today, after I discovered he’d poured an entire box of table salt in the sink “to see what happened when it got wet!”, I asked them — in a weary, loving voice, if they thought maybe they should check to see that the heifers had enough water since it’s so hot.
Away they went.
I gazed into the green leaves of my garden and listened to the silence and the hum of the bees.
I peeked in on my infant watermelons.
And then I ate a Popsicle.
That’s when one of them came back and demanded that I “come see what we’re doing!”
It’s physically, mentally and emotionally impossible for a mother to ignore a statement like that. Thankfully he was jumping off a round bale, not a cliff.
It was the last straw …