Cows for Birthdays

The grandboys have come to visit. The Big Guy will be five in a couple of weeks, and the Squirt is a few months over two. Big Guy has a list of things he wants for his birthday, and every day, he wants to know if it’s his birthday. He has informed his daddy that he needs a cow for his birthday. I have no idea why, but he says he needs a cow.

So while the boys are at our house out here in very rural west Texas, we’re going to try to let them see a real cow, up close and personal. I know where there are some horses they can go visit. But horses aren’t actually on the birthday list. He wants a cow, and a sheep and a pig, but not a horse. Maybe he’ll be happy with a toy cow…

The Big Guy has also come up with a numbering system for everyone in his life. When you ask him how old he is, he will tell you that he’s Number One. Not that he’s four years old, or almost five. He’s One. Because, after all, he IS the center of his own universe. His daddy is #2, the Squirt is #3, and poor mom is relegated to #4. I’m #11, right after Uncle Bob at #10. Ah well…

They’ve only been here over one night. The Squirt is old enough now that when he’s tired, he realizes that Mama and Daddy aren’t around, but he stops crying when Gigi or Grandaddy lie down with him and read him a story, and actually falls asleep before we reach the end of the story. Unlike his daddy, or his aunt or uncle, actually. They stayed awake by sheer determination right to the bitter end.

I might get to the computer a few times this next week, but since I figure I’m going to be spending all my time chasing the boys, I doubt I’ll have much to write about. Well, except for the cute stuff they do. It’s going to be a fun–and exhausting–week.