Manifolds, Manolos & Manure
Seven years ago, we welcomed our big little boy with no official eye color. He entered the world one hot June evening five minutes after the 2014 soybean crop was officially in the ground.
Unlike with our blue-eyed girl, we skipped reading the books. We had done it before. Our house was still baby proofed, we had never gotten around to removing it after our blue-eyed girl didn’t scale the walls or the chairs. We simply brought up the gear. Washed the supplies. And brought home our big little boy.
Unlike his sister, our big little boy skipped newborn and zero to three months clothing. He screamed at the mere sound of a bath. Melted down in the car. And loved being on his tummy.
Earlier this summer we celebrated his seventh birthday. Kids and parents engaged in an epic nerf gun battle. Faced down near death on the slip and slide. And swam in the creek and pond.
In the past year, our big little boy transitioned from remote learning to in-person learning and changed school districts.
As parents, we watched as he sprinted to the school bus, launched himself up the bus steps, and fast walked to his seat.
We listened as he told us about his day and celebrated as he returned to “normal” after being virtual for so long.
This year, our big little boy discovered his cousin’s bikes. Our blue-eyed girl doesn’t ride a bike. In fact, she doesn’t know how to ride a bike. She can’t balance on a bike. Our big little boy on the other hand races throughout the farm on his cousin’s bikes. Speeds over the gravel. Grass. Concrete. And even through the pasture. We watched as our cattle followed our big little boy up from the pond. Him on his bike. And 10 of them at a trot behind him. My farmer and I gave in. We bought him a bigger bike, a helmet, and even a set of roller blades. Next is a set of roller blades for my farmer.
Since December, our new-to-us farmhouse has been under construction. We’ve torn out walls. Added a massive header. Poured part of the concrete foundation. Redone electric. And have slowly started to rebuild. Our big little boy has been in his element. A somewhat warm and dark element. His room has been without electricity for several months. And is currently without a vent. Or a working window. I swear it’s on our list to fix. Next winter. We’ll even add insulation to his room. Throughout it all, our big little boy has ran the sawsall. Drills. Hammers. Drywall mud. And a paint brush.
Our big little boy with no official eye color is feral. He runs throughout the farm. Hides out in the haymow. Tears through our shop. Raids toolboxes. And is perfectly comfortable in a tractor. Gator. Ranger. He’s feral. And a farm kid.
Farm kids are resilient. They’re tough.
As parents, we want nothing more than our big little boy to want to milk the cows. Drive the tractors. Farm. Just like his dad, grandfather, and great grandfather before him.