Playing inside? Who ever heard of playing INSIDE? What in the world would you do INSIDE the house? All the animals and the fun stuff are OUTSIDE! What’s wrong with you?
What’s a dryer? We hang our clothes outside!
Driving by a farm that has baby animals in the pastures closest to the road is cause for nearly causing an accident thanks to your sudden stopping, hanging out the window, and screaming, “LOOK AT THE BABY (IDENTIFY BREED HERE).”
Why’s it so weird to attend a convention of hot, sweaty people and smelly always-needing-another-wash animals (aka county fair) when people tattoo college logos on their bodies? And what’s wrong with using scarlet and gray to accent everything – in your house and in your barn – anyway?
Going to see cows ranks up there with going to see cousins. Even the we-see-em-once-a-year cousins.
The only thing better than riding a pony is riding a pony in red cowboy boots. (Hey, a girl’s gotta have her style.)
Baths? We don’t need baths until we smell like the fellas in the barn!
Riding in the front seat of the truck trumps everything else. Including dinner, new shoes, seeing any grandma-figure, mints, and, well, everything.
She asks to take the truck to wherever. We’re leaving, she wants to be in the truck. Period. (The next lesson, age three, is fuel economy.)
“Go ride pony today?” “No, honey, not today.” “Go to store, get a pony.” (And she doesn’t mean the pink kind that have ribbons in their tails.)
Nothing that’s on TV will compare to the thrill of going to the barn with Daddy. Ever. Want the TV turned off? Send Daddy to the barn and his helper will forget all about whatever’s on TV. Instantly.
She’ll wear her patent leather shoes with her play clothes, but her barn boots only go to the barn. Duh!