Hey folks, it is–or was–just Chase’s Birthday. We celebrated amongst friends, family, and leftover turkey–his birthday falling the day after Thanksgiving. In his honor, I offered to write him a little ditty but was quickly refused. In his true-blue, independent spirit, Chase said he’d rather have it come from him, not me. So here you have it, folks, birthday thoughts from a two-year old.
Howdy folks. My mom said I could do this thing on my own. I’m going to tell you about my life as a two year old at Drowsy Water. First, we need to establish some rules.
Rule Number One:
I am in charge.
That’s the only rule I have.
I can’t count higher than one anyway.
Next, I’ll give you some reasons why rule number one is in effect.
Most cowboy babies put their pants on one leg at a time. Not me. I don’t even wear pants when I am serious about moving cows. Nothing says cowboy more than the breeze on my knees.
Some kids want to go to some Disney place for their birthday. Not me. My ideal vacation spot is just across the road from my house. At any given moment, our shop has at least two tractors, one truck, one snowmobile, an assortment of tools, and Dad’s workout gear. Pack me a lunch and a diaper change, Mom, I’m headed out.
And, Mom, when you set the table, don’t bother with the fork and spoon. Not when I have a perfectly good mini fighter jet to stab that hunk of meat. And applesauce from a tiny tractor bucket? Mmmm.
You want to go zipline? Heck with that weight limit business. Just let me at ‘er and let her rip because I am ready to zip! Need a ball? Soccer balls. Basketballs. Lacrosse balls. Tennis balls. Baseballs. They are all mine. You want to play with man stuff? You found your man.
Sun, moon, rain, mud, snow, wind and hail are no match for me. You want to climb a tree? Let’s see you do it like this.
Thanks for sharing my birthday with me. I’m sure the rest of life will be a ride. Hope you make it, Mom and Dad!