Last night, as I was putting the girls to bed, we were discussing the possibility of sending Grace to Brad's parents' for a couple weeks. They have started a real, live farm and will be working on it during the summer. Grace is thrilled at the prospect, and I explained to her that working a farm is hard and that a lot would be expected of her.
Grace explained to Claire, "Yeah, Mom would know because she used to live on a farm."
I snorted. (Because, yes, that's how I laugh. It's also why my Dad [still] calls me Pigee. And so I'm the closest thing my parents ever had to a farm animal.) "Um, no. I didn't. Don't you remember my stories about living in an apartment?"
"Oh yeah," she said. And then, after a pause, "But your dad is so farm-like."
I laughed out loud. It wasn't something I would have ever known as a girl her age. Yet, it's true.
Too bad I didn't inherit his green thumb. Yet. Maybe there's still time.