ReeRee is the right age to start picking up things in the world around her. We hadn’t encountered swear words, yet.
ReeRee, Newt, and I were feeding this weekend. Ree gets quite bored riding around in the pickup for hours.
After feeding the little bulls, we headed off to feed the heifers.
ReeRee: Daddy, are we on the path to go to the farm?
Newt: THE WHAT?!? (Background: ranchers do not like to be called farmers, especially in the fragile Sandhill ecosystem where plows destroyed the native grasses. Don’t get me wrong, I like farmers. My grandpa was one. But farmers and Sandhills are like kerosene and fire. Not a good combo.)
Newt gave me side-eyes in the cab of the pickup… can you believe our daughter said the “F-word”!?! I could read it on his face.
ReeRee: The ‘arn. The barn. Are we going back to the ranch?
Newt breathed a sigh of relief. The ranch, not the farm.
So far, we are still F-word free.