This photo has nothing to do with the story I am about to share with you. I just like this photo. It’s of our neighbor’s dairy herd set against the Appalachian Mountains. These cows are here at this spot every morning when I take the youngins to school. Makes me smile every morning. (Unless, it is one of those mornings, if you smell what I am stepping in.)
Okay, the story.
Yesterday, I went to a mother-daughter banquet at Cranky’s grandmother’s church. Got that? Anyway, every year, Grandma always invites me and my little girl because since Grandma is the mother of five children, lots of grandchildren and tons of great-grandchildren, she always gets the best door prize for the mother with the most offspring. I just love Tommy’s Grandma. She is 86 years old and the sweetest Grandma. And she loves the door prizes at the mother-daughter banquet.
So, of course, my little girl and myself were all gussied up in our finest attire, which translates into cowgirl boots and a pretty dress. Yes, my girl does wear dresses…just always with cowgirl boots. We arrived fashionably late, as always. We were doing farm chores all day yesterday and could not quite get everything done in time to make it to the banquet on time. The farm chores consisted of moving pigs and castrating them which will play into my story shortly.
Anyway, we sat down with our plates full of food to a whole table of Grandma’s kin and some of her womenfolk friends. Those dear women are Grandma’s oldest friends and are very sweet but I know not a one of them has ever set foot on a farm of any kind in their whole lives. I guess, hoyty-toyty would be a great word to describe those women. To make conversation with the late arrivals and to make us feel welcome, Grandma leaned over to our girl and asked, “So, what is happening on the farm today?” My girl answered in all the honesty that she possesses, “Well, Grandma, not much but that boar hog of ours doesn’t have his balls anymore. You should have see the size of them too. His balls were huge!” And she took another bite of ham.
Grandma’s one friend made some type of choking cough, Grandma merely said, “Ohhh, I see” and the rest of the table just chuckled. Me? I crawled under the table.
This is the same girl who when we sent her off to kindergarten last fall, we had to work on some basics. Not writing her name, remembering her teacher’s name or working on the alphabet or numbers basics. No, she mastered those with no problem. The biggest worry I had was her using the word, “shit” in school. My fears were erased early on when on the way to school the first day, she excitely announced, “Momma, I finally understand. Cows and pigs go shit, I go to the bathroom!” She gets her matter of factness honestly. It’s all my mother’s fault.
Oh, by the way, Grandma got her door prize.