Rent-A-Sheep

It has been many moons since my last post and it has all been for lack of good substance to post about. I know, I know, surely life in the plains provides plenty of good writing material, right? I mean, Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote a whole series. But alas, I've come up a little short.

It took me leaving the fine state of Kansas to bring me back to Call Me Alise with a story to tell. Whilst the Husband was traversing the globe being an international businessman, the Infant and I headed east to the land of my people: good ole Virginia. Spring in the Shenandoah Valley is one of my favorite times of year. We are spending the week with my parents, GG and Pop-pop, on the farm and upon our arrival, the fun times began to roll.

GG and Pop-pop love when the grandkiddies come for a visit and want them to get the full farming experience since all hail from wonderfully metropolitan places like Washington, DC and Kansas City (ha!). They arrange horseback riding lessons, duck feedings, rides on the tractor, chores and other fun rurally inspired activities. This visit was no different.

Shortly after arriving on the farm, the Infant and I settled in on the floor to toss around the very blocks I played with as a little whipper snapper. My parents said they had an errand to run, hopped in the pickup truck and left in a plume of dust. About 20 minutes later, they returned and said they there was a surprise waiting outside for the Infant. I hear the surprise before I see it and cannot help but laugh. There, standing on deck next to Pop-pop, was a young sheep. His name is George and he's a rental.

I may have mentioned to GG and Pop-pop that the Infant is particularly fond of his plethora of toy sheep. For some reason, we have accumulated roughly a half dozen stuffed sheep at home on the range and the Infant likes crawling around with one in each mit or wrestles them into submission. He loves them! So, GG and Pop-pop thought surely the Infant would get a kick out of a real, live sheep. They borrowed George from a neighbor up the road whose kids raise market lambs. For those of you who are familiar with the term "market lamb," do not fret: George is a family pet and is not likely bound for the auction block. In the meantime, George will remain on our farm frolicking about in the grass while the Infant squeals at him or tries to eat the grass himself. At the end of the week, our rented sheep will return to his proper home to join his wooly brethern.

P.S. The Infant may be the youngest mutton buster on the block but what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in style and charisma.