Gouda and Great Granparents

Five years from now I want a goat named Gouda. I want to make my own goat variation of Holland goodness, and it would be really nice to have something compete with the Super Mario Brothers for the boys' attention. I'm not saying the fellas will opt for milking the goat on a lazy Saturday, and I'm not saying they need to strut around wearing spurs either. It just seems nowadays kids have their parents convinced that if they play enough video games, they will all grow up to be fighter pilots. Don't kid yourselves, too much Donkey Kong leads to too much Mario Kart leads to a liberal arts degree. Papa Kettle over here didn't need 30 lives to beat Contra, so we may have to consult the elder generations for some back-to-basics wisdom.

Bob and Judy, the new Great Grandparents, were the most recent visitors the boys had the pleasure of entertaining, and are a welcome influence whether on the farm or at the cabin. They stopped by on their way to explore the western slope of the Rockies, making Colorado the third state in which they have been able to spend time with the boys. A group of 8 or so arrived by train, a classy way of snubbing the super-highways that Bob refuses to travel. I'm not sure Judy appreciated having to share the babies with friends during such a brief visit, but she hid that well.

Judy was first able to meet the boys a few months ago back in their pre-mature state, and needing to be fed every 2 hours - the help was awesome. She even picked Rhubarb from the yard (albeit of the 'weed variety' that we grow out here in Colorado) and made pies! Never mind the fact that she made the thousand mile journey alone with her son-in-law. I'm just glad she had the chance to set him straight.

Bob, a retired basketball coach and farmer, doesn't miss a sunrise and has some great stories if you can make it up for breakfast. Some people celebrated the birth of the fellas with a toast, and others with a card or phone call. Not Bob. Bob honored the boys by naming his newborn horses Eli and Finn. And that was after his failed attempt to name our sons Oscar and Oli. I'm not sure if having the boys sit on the horses was entirely necessary, but Bob seemed like it was the normal thing for any 2 month old child. I just figured all that manure would make for a nice soft landing if one of the lad lost his balance. Who needs video games when you can race your brother on a horse? Heck, Bob has wagons and draft horses they can race if the little colts become a bore.

With a little luck, some of those values and ways of life will trickle down to the boys. Even Russ claims to have invented the Rag Ball when he should have been bailing hay! My parents can put them to work in the future vineyard, Russ has them stitching rag balls, Cyndi has them making gourds, and Bob has them fixing wagons. Between those wholesome chores and milking Gouda the goat, maybe Kristin and I can finally eat cheese, drink wine and play Sega.