Scott

Sunday was cow sorting day.  A day where we all pledge to not call one another an idiot when a cow gets past us, and then we risk our lives to seperate mamas and babies, and tag babies and castrate the boy babies.  It is good, wholesome, family fun.

The most frustrating part is trying to get all the cows into the corral.  Ideally, our herding dogs would do this for us, but they don’t know how to, so we must do it and we are not swell at it.  We do, however, put our hearts into it, and that counts for something.

When we finally got everyone into the corral, our friend, who is also our farrier, came to help us.  He brought with him his favorite horse, “Scott” and I think that is a great name for a good horse.

Scott and Farrier Friend were very helpful, especially when it came time to rope and hold down the calves.  These calves were a bit more on the older side, so the job was trickier because they were so much bigger.

David and FF did most of the dangerous work.  The kids and I helped by holding ropes tight and opening gates and looking horrified when it was time to castrate.

Just kidding.  Only I am horrified.  My kids grew up as farm kids.  I did not.

You cannot see very well, but HD was standing on the other side of the corral panels holding a rope tight to tie down the calf’s front legs and then FF’s very well-behaved horse stood holding the other rope somehow.

Anyways.  My job is the most pleasant job.  And when I am feeling all grossed out and anxious because giant calf legs are going everywhere and trying to kick my loved ones, I look at my pretty cow notebook where I keep all the records.

You may ask, ‘Taylor?!  Is your cute cow notebook sitting on random piles of cow and horse poopoo?”

And I will say, “Yes!  Yes, it surely is.”

Anyways, I am in charge of records and numbers, but I don’t like watching the castration part.  And who would, really?  And normally when David does this without FF he just tosses the calf’s former manhood into the wind.

FF fancied taking some home for a snack.

I could talk to you about the size of them, but I don’t want to.  It is all too much for me.

Then David wanted FF’s opinion on cows that don’t look too hearty and was thinking of sorting some off to maybe slaughter and I was like, “Can they all just live happy lives and die of natural causes?”  And I am getting the impression that I would make a terrible cattle rancher.

We all love FF.  He really enjoys our kids and they enjoy him.  He let the kids ride Scott and told us stories of him and Scott.  He has had Scott for over 20 years.

FF joined us for dinner.  Like a good cattle rancher’s wife, I had prepared a beef roast.  And yes, while at the table, there must be conversation as to whether or not the meat we are eating came from our lands.  Like normal people do.

Meanwhile, back in first grade . . .

This week, I am having to try and complete lengthy one on one assessments with each student.  If it was just me and the child in a quiet room with no disruptions or distractions, I would guess it would take me 5-8 minutes per child.  Which doesn’t sound too terrible, yet, it is, because there is just me and 23 of them.  And there are disruptions and distractions.

Such as this fun tattle I got –

“Mrs. M.  Two kids in our class were peeing in the same toilet at the same time in the bathroom.”

Which was a new one for me.

So, I have to try and monitor the children and make sure they are behaving and all that jazz while pulling kids for their assessments.

I am working with a student.

Me:  Let’s talk about rhyming words.

Student:  Oh, I totally can do that.

Me:  Ok, so you I am going to say a word and you tell me a word that rhymes with it.  So if I said, “cat,” you could say “bat” or “rat” or “sat.”

Student:  Got it.

Me:  Ok.  Tell me a word that rhymes with “tap.”

Student (proudly):  Mouse.

Me:  Ok.

Student (pointing to a book across the room):  I knew that was the answer because there is a mouse on that book.

?

Me:  Ok!  Now I am going to say some sounds and I want you to smoosh them into a word.  So if I said, C-a-t, you blend it into “cat.”

Student:  Got it!

Me:  Ok!  p-ai-d

Student:  Easy.  Painting.

?

Meanwhile, I smell urine and have to go track that down, find the culprit, culprit denies having an accident, yet the smell is strong and then later student admits to accident and apologizes for former denial.

I was relaying some of this to LD last night.

LD:  Wait.  Did this all happen on the same day?

Me:  What do you mean?

LD:  Like, the two kids peeing in the same toilet AND the kid that had an accident?  That all happened on the same day?

Me:  Yes.

LD:  That’s crazy.

Me:  No.  No, son.  That’s first grade.

Happy Wednesday!