Remember the trunk of poo?
It’s gonna cure what ails me.
Dad brought his tiller and helped me distribute and work everything in. He hasn’t seen that much cow manure since he was a boy. Those were the days when he and his country-boy squad used to throw it at each other. True story.
High five, dad. Now I will never doubt that the bitties penchant toward disgusting creativity is genetic.
Yes, dad’s hat game was strong.
I don’t think it needs to be documented that there is almost no one grosser than a 5 year old. Except maybe a 4 year old. So I might/maybe/definitely had a good snicker right after I told bitty E “you know that’s cow poo poo you’re playing in, right?”
Let’s just call it payback for that time she flushed the potty with her mouth.
{In case you’re wondering, this is the exception to the rule of avoiding reciprocity in parenting. See Section IV Statute XXVII-niner-niner entitled Developing Healthy Hygiene Habits.}
Back to the dirt…
It’s a mix of Black Kow {komma} mushroom compost, and Pro-mix Bx. It just feels good, if you know what I mean. If there’s no improvement this year…
Well.
Kall me krazy, but I just don’t think that’s going to happen.
