A boy, a cow, a creative comparison

Life with a young boy,
demands energy, patience,
hugs and much laughter.

First field trip of Kindergarten! How cool! How exciting! My boy, AB, 5 years old, was all a-flutter about the bus ride to the farm. When I got home that night, he couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened.

As usual, the story tumbled out of him quickly, loudly and without any noticeable punctuation.  I’m used that. But then he slowed down to talk about milking the cow.

“We got to milk a cow. It was really cool.”

– Really? What was it like?

“It was warm and it felt really funny.”

– Did you get to pull on the teats? (Why I felt compelled to add this particular word to his working vocabulary is unknown to me. Luckily he doesn’t seem to have heard it.)

“Yeah. It felt like when you stretch your boy parts really really far and squeeze it.”

– *Dramatic pause* It does? Do you do that often?

“Yeah, well no. Well…” and off he went into the next room. The baby sitter and I exchanged looks and I busted up laughing. If you are 5 and you milk a cow, then you likely have a limited experience set to draw from when trying to describe what it feels like. So being a boy, you naturally turn to things at hand, so to speak, to clarify the circumstances.  I gave him full marks for creativity and clarity. I think the baby sitter was a little disquieted by the discussion.

My only concern now is that he will share this particular comparison set with teachers or other kids at school. And in doing so, he will either a) get sent to the principal’s office or b) pick up a nick name he will regret (elasti-boy, stretch, teat-man). I think the kids are a little young as yet to be this clever or cruel, but ten minutes on the play ground often makes me think otherwise.

I am now reviewing all future field trips, trying to decide whether he has enough G rated life experiences to conduct proper post-event-story-telling.  Alternatively, I may just think up really creative questions to ask him so that his replies can become future blog posts. Mother of the year has never been a goal for me…

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1 Comment

  1. Oh…brother…(sister)…I’m glad I’m not the only one. I made sure to give nick names to boys and girls private parts, just in case my poys decided to enlighten anyone–this way enlightenment would only be confusing. I love how he left the room after a mild interrogation–me thinks he “milks his cow” more often than we’d like to believe.


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