Last night in the tub The Mayor flipped a bucket up on its end, sat on it, announced that he was "Farmer Tim" and that he was going to take me on a hay ride.
"Climb on!" he yelled, then started the tractor engine and showed me around his farm.
We passed the cows, the pigs and the the chickens.
When we got to the horses Farmer Tim asked me if I wanted to ride them.
"Of course," I told him.
"Alright," he said. "Put a horse up under your butt, Mommy."
I did as I was told and got a horse, you know, up under there.
"What are the horse's names?" I asked.
"Well," Farmer Tim said, "my horse is named is Cowboy Horse Ass."
Oh. My. Gosh.
[The Hallmark Moments.]
I guess "Giddy up Cowboy Horse Ass!!!" does have a kind of ring to it...
"What is my horse's name?" I asked.
"Your horse is named Cow Zit."
High Ho and Away Cow Zit!
"And what is Daddy's horse called?"
"Daddy's horse is named Nauseous."
The Family of Joy will be riding Cowboy Horse Ass, Cow Zit and Nauseous off into the sunset to conduct a series of important scientific experiments that will unfortunately keep us away from the blogosphere for the duration of the Thanksgiving holiday week.
(of large doses of Tryptophan delivered through turkey meat.)
How many hours can be spent using
"The Horizontal Parenting Method" also known as
"The Parenting from the Couch while Eating Pecan Pie Technique."
(and will said pecan pie lead to a return of The Lady Flabina?)
What is the maximum number of hours per day that The Mayor and Rooster Girl can be
Count on The House of Joy to regale you with more tales of the mundane when posting resumes next week.
Giddy up Cowboy Horse Ass!
Go Cow Zit!
Let's ride, Nauseous!