I am only eight months old so obviously I still enjoy milk. But I have noticed lately that my mother has gotten much shorter and when I go to get the milk sometimes I can't quite fit under her and she actually goes up in the air like if you picked up a wheelbarrow. Because she is so short I guess. It's kind of odd, I used to fit all the way under there.
I hope she doesn't get too much shorter because it's a little bit inconvenient.
Today was Easter here and it was supposed to be a holiday with nothing on the schedule and the farmer was going to go and hunt for some morels because it is morel season. So the farmer did the chores and milked everybody and then went to feed the bucket babies and then heard some high-pitched distant baby screaming.
"What the goodness," said the farmer, and counted the triplets. Two sets makes six. One, two, three, four, five, six.
"What the goodness," said the farmer. Well, maybe it was Abbie and Amarillo, Moldy's twins, yelling about something. Just then they ran silently past. The baby screaming continued.
"What the goodness," said the farmer, looking around like a beagle at a foxhunt.
Maddy had gone behind the barn into the muddiest mud pit on the farm where the tractor even got stuck and had a set of twins three days ahead of schedule. Both were covered with mud and yelling angrily. Maddy was gazing into the distance in puzzlement, perhaps considering updating her Facebook page.
She tiptoed discreetly away from the two little babies as they tried to advance toward her.
The farmer came and got them out of the mud.
"Two little easter bunnies," said the farmer. "No morels."
