Does anyone have any idea what my two youngin’s are doing?
My ten year old is wielding an ax and appears to be chopping ice? All the while, his little sister sits there (in the rain, no less) offering moral support.
So, any idea what they are doing?
Well, shoot. In that photo, it looks the said 10 year old almost chopped his foot off.
Still can’t figure it out? Does this help?
Well, I guess this photo doesn’t really help you either. Other than, those two work well together when they want to get something done. I bet it’s something really important.
Oh, yeah, baby! Homemade ice cream is something really important!
Every Sunday, we have a big whompin’ Sunday dinner, in which it takes all day for my momma and myself to prepare and 15 minutes to eat. We sit down to supper every night as a family (all nine of us) but Sundays…well, that’s the day when there is a huge platter of meat and extra fixin’s on the table. We bless the hands that prepared the food…in reality…that’s everyone in the family because no one is exempt from food production in this family. My blind brother? He can find those tators in the dirt with his hands when we harvest. My elderly parents? My daddy still plows the ground and my momma churns the butter like nobody’s business. You can bet my youngin’s are not strangers to planting, hoeing weeds and picking beans. If they want to eat, they better learn to produce the food too. Crankster? Well, let’s just say that he is really good at supervising all food production on this farm!
So, every Sunday in the summer, we have homemade goat’s milk ice cream. In my opinion, and as much as I love cow’s milk, there is NOTHING like homemade goat’s milk ice cream. It is creamy and so, so rich. It’s just a ritual that we have in the summer. Every Sunday = goat’s milk ice cream. The flavor of the ice cream changes weekly and is usually seasonal. If the cherries are ripe, then it’s cherry ice cream. Strawberries? You betcha, strawberry ice cream. This past summer, Cranky and I took the canoe to reach some of the blackberries that grew right out over the pond. Some of them fell into the pond (which we retrieved) but heck, no one noticed the taste of pond water that evening when we had blackberry ice cream.
Homemade ice cream on Sundays is a rare occurence over the winter so when I hollered to the youngin’s to go cut some ice from the pond on Sunday afternoon, I was humored to find these two youngin’s bustin’ their butts to fill the tub with ice. They had enough ice in there to make about 10 freezers full. There wasn’t any whining or complaining about me treating them like slaves like their normally is.
Them (whining) “But…Momma, why do we have to do it?”
Me (calmly, of course) “Because I collectively housed you in my belly for 36 months and never charged you rent! You do the math, you little twits. That’s 36 months of rent free accommodations. Three freakin’ years…you terds owe me!”
Them (complaining) “But…Momma, why do you make us work all the time?
Me (soothing, of course) “Because I birthed you without so much as an Advil for pain medication for a combined 36 hours of labor for all of you twits. That’s a full work week for some employed folks. YOU OWE ME BIG TIME!”
Them (really trying my patience) “But…Momma, why are you so mean?”
Me (okay, at this point, screaming) “Because I’m married to your father, that’s why! Now, go do your work before I really lose my patience!”
Them (smuggly, of course) “But…Momma, you don’t even own one ounce of patience to lose it in the first place.”
Me (fully engulfed with rage)…just silence. I think the look on my face was sufficient.
Them(scared silly)…silence from their mouths as well and scurrying away like rats.
So, the answer to the million dollar question is…
Those little twits are cutting ice for homemade ice cream because the ice is free! And we all know how much I like FREE! And ice cream…I really like ice cream.