Today we went to a growing project harvest (where a field is harvested and donated toward ending hunger in developing countries) and Marcel and I were once again reminded that we are raising city girls. Our daughters have turned into those girls that us “country girls” used to turn our noses at (and, to be honest, be a little envious of at the same time).
– they don’t know what a combine is (yes, Nikki called it a “turbine” on her blog)
– they are squeamish of bugs
– they whine about standing around in a field for an hour
– they make faces at the smell of pig manure
– only one of them has any interest in riding a combine (that would be Julie)
– they don’t know that wheat makes flour which in turn makes our bread
– they forget that milk comes from cows
– the stubble was too scratchy for their legs, so they went to sit in the car
– they wanted to come home to watch TV

Sigh. I think we need to send them to a farm for a week. Too bad they can’t go visit Grandpa’s farm, where they used to gather eggs and feed the pigs.

D&L, wanna take them?

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