Farm Friday

One would think that kids who grow up on a farm would tend to have a higher sense of responsiblity than their suburban peers.

And I would be inclined to say that just might be true.

Case in point:

Last week, Bella went out to the barn to check for eggs. I was busy flippin' flapjacks for about 10 or 11 kids, so I kind of forgot about her for a minute. Or ten. OK, maybe 15.

Anyway, it finally somehow dawned on me when I tripped over her sneakers and nearly put my eye out with my spatula (it could happen) that she hadn't come back yet.

So I sent a runner.

A runner, 'round my house, is whatever kid is nearest on hand at the time it occurs to you that you need something and you're too tired or busy or OK I'll say it too lazy to do it yourself.

So I saw Julie first and sent her out to check on her sister.

When they got back, Bella was all flustered. Turns out that when she was leaving the Hen House, she couldn't get the door to close. The wood of the door frame was all swollen with the dampness from all the rain we'd had. Since Bella had not taken her phone with her, she basically had two choices:
1) Let go the door and head back to the house.
2) Stand there holding the door and wait for help.

She chose the latter. She didn't know how long it would take before someone would realize that quiet little Natasha was neither present nor accounted for. What she did know is that if she let the door go, all the chickens could get out or something could get in and bottom line is it could all end badly for the chickens. And little bitty Bella decided that wasn't about to happen on HER watch.

So she stood there. Holding the door. Waiting. And waiting.

Poor sweet little thing.

Here she is on the beach this summer. No responsibilities, not a care in the world but running and spinning and jumping.
















I just love that little gal.




Voting. It's the responsible thing to do.