The Farmer's Daughters

This weekend C.W. got to spend some time "working" on the farm with her Papa. We carefully analyzed this situation and sent her on the safest of missions. She was to sit in the pick-up (securely strapped in her car seat) and color while he greased the tractor, then they went to town for parts. I'm told she measured just about every bolt in the bolt section of our local hardware store.

She looked so darned cute on the way out the door, I couldn't help but snap a picture. It's out of focus (I blame it on the wee red head squirming in my other arm), but I don't care. It was a priceless vision. One moment, she is the most elegant tiny ballerina and the next she's sporting her farming gear and a blaze orange hunting vest. Jeremy insisted on the orange vest. I agreed with him that she should wear it, but I thought to myself, if there is a hunter out there that shoots at something blue, with pink princess boots on, that hunter has got some serious problems. She was terribly embarrassed to wear the thing, but we erred on the side of caution.

So off she went with her pink Dora the Explorer bag of coloring supplies, and they had a grand afternoon.



C.W. came back at supper time and reported that she had "driven" Papa's pick-up. Uh-huh. So much for Mr. Safety :) I guess there are just certain things farmer's daughters have to experience when they're growing up. I remember driving my Dad's pickup (solo) around the farm when I was just seven.

I couldn't post about C.W.'s afternoon with her Papa without throwing in a pic of our dear wee red head. So here Davey...er Jeremy... trying on the "coon skin caps" with her at a sporting goods store in Fargo.



Oh what a joy it is to be raising two little farmer's daughters.