The Farm

We took the littles back to the farm this past weekend.  

Headed there early on Friday, right after we picked up Henry from Kids' Day Out, 

expecting both to nap on the three hour car ride to Hiawatha.

They did.

Andrew loves the farm.  It's so deeply engrained into his blood that he just picks right back up where he left off from the last time he was there - 

clothes strewn all over his parents' house like he's in high school again, shoes left at the door, work clothes on, work boots on, 

the standard breakfast of fried eggs, bacon and toast, watching movie after movie on the big screen.

 

Henry loves the farm.  It's a little boy's dream.  Cows, cats, and dogs.  Mud and rocks.  Tractors and trucks that adults let him "drive".  

An older boy cousin who is great with him.

It was only Nelle's second trip to the farm, and so far, she only knows the inside of Grandpa and Grandma's house 

as winter has been especially dull and brutal this year.  Or so it seems to me.

And for me, the farm is harder.  I'm always feeling like I have to keep track of feedings, and diapers, and everyone's clothes, and naps, and bedtimes.  The same things I do at home, but without all of my stuff and routine.  

I'm not sure how to completely let go and get to a place where I love the farm like they do.  

But I'm trying.