Yesterday evening was a little warm and humid, but pleasant. I finished some mowing…well, it was more like stirring up dust than cutting grass, since we have evidentially been chosen to host this year’s
parade of pigs. While I was out simulating a dust storm,
Joel was gathering mayhaws for a friend. When he was done, he collected the grandchildren, and they piled on the golf cart and came to get me.
Josie settled in next to me, and as we were driving off, she looked up and said, “Hey, baby.”
We rode around and finally made it to the hill,
where the boys wanted to get off and run. They weren’t the only ones.
‘Little Miss Boots On Wrong Feet’ had to run too, and when she got to our freshly plowed earth,
she said, “Nassy pigs!”
Before too long, we came back to the house to cool off
and sneak in a few readings of ‘Barnyard Dance’.
Then, I walked them back across the yard to their house. Josie wasn’t happy. She cried and kept saying SOMETHING over and over. I asked Hudson what in the world she was saying.
He just held out his arms and said, ” I don’t know. I don’t speak ‘baby’.”