“Out of the mouths of babes…” I’m pretty sure that we’re all familiar with the quote. Those of us who have the privilege and duty of being parents, we live by it. My husband, Mark, and I are blessed to be expecting our fourth child any day now. (I’ve been hoping sooner, rather than later, but this child already has his father’s sense of time.) With the weather being as lousy as it’s been here, the boys and I have been spending a lot of “quality” time together indoors. I have to say that I’ve been blessed to hear some pretty interesting thoughts that come from children raised on a farm in a very rural area.
For example, the other day my oldest (6) was putting on a puppet show for our youngest (2). As he was slipping on the puppet, he looked up at me and said, “You know, this is kinda like how Dad helps the cows have their calves.” As he went about his play, I was trying to recover without offending him.
I guess I take for granted what it is that my children are exposed to on a daily basis. Yes, I didn’t quite intend for him to see “all” that the farm has to offer, but I knew that he would always know that burgers come from our cows and bacon comes from pigs. He knows that chickens are needed to lay the eggs he so loves and that dairy cows are different than our beef cattle. (He also knows that bulls don’t have udders and are NOT milked…no matter what you see in cartoons.)
I was a little leery about him being too involved in viewing much of calving season this year, due to my own situation. I get enough comparisons between my pregnancy and calving season from his father; I don’t need to hear from my 6-year-old about the importance of using calving sleeves and the grossness of afterbirth. I also was trying really hard to avoid any public references to either. (Church is always a really great place for these “ponderings” to be said out loud, especially during the sermon, when the rest of church is sooooooo quiet!)
But through all of my worries and concerns about my own comfort, I forgot to take comfort in knowing that my son doesn’t have to learn all of this in a book. He will never have to wonder what it feels like to be kissed by a new calf, or if calves really do frolic and play like they say in the books. And for that, I’m eternally blessed.