In some ways my children fit into the country life like an old glove, like sweat pants out of the dryer, like grandma panties (don't judge me). They stayed outside more than indoors, they romped around the fields like little mice and played until their little hearts were content.
This is my middle boy and oldest twerp frolicking in the meadow. This is the view outside my parent's backdoor. Heaven, isn't it? In other ways, my children act like a bunch of city kids. They begin searching the field for corn. They think that field corn is the same as table corn. Well, it is not. And that is not as bad an assumption as thinking that you can actually eat the field corn straight from the cob, right out of the field. I am sure this is organic, right dad? No pesticides? If he starts growing sideburns or man-boobs, I am calling someone!Soon, he comes sprinting out of the field. He is so proud of his contribution to the family. He is already a little hunter and gatherer. He has brought forth a bountiful supply for our meal. What a keeper. We shall call him "Little Corn Smoker." Not only does he try to eat the corn, but then he starts gnawing on the cobs. Maybe I do not feed him enough. Does he look malnourished to you? (Note: I am not even commenting on the fact that this child is wearing nothing but his skivvies. Who is his mother?