When we weaned the fall calves last week, Mom pointed out this cow. Though she doesn’t look it, she is 18 years old. And she still weaned a nice, big bull calf.
I was like, “Dang, girl, you’re like rockin’ it.”
And she was like, “Shut up you little pip squeak. I’m old enough to be your great grandmother so don’t give me any lip.”
I was like, “Yes, ma’am.”
I was going to go on and tell her how nice she looked and how the sprinkling of gray hairs around her eyes and muzzle were beautiful and that she didn’t look a day over a six-year-old cow, but I decided I better keep my mouth shut.
It’s hard on me to get reprimanded.
Although I may try to track her down come election time and see if she wants to go vote with me. Wouldn’t that be fun?