Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Wabbit hunting

My children found just a minute in their busy vacation schedules to talk to their poor, pitiful, lonely mother. And they made me laugh.

The oldest has been given a BBGun. He'd been shooting one a Cub Scout camp all week, and Granny had this one she'd been saving. It was time. He and his Papaw went out together, just the two of them. Papaw put some cans in trees, and my son tried to shoot them. Apparently he got two out of their perch and was able to hit the others. Then, he informed me that he'd tried to shoot a butterfly, and missed.

"Thank goodness! I can't believe you were going to try to shoot a poor innocent butterfly!" Out the window goes my image of supportive mother.

"And, then, Mom, Aunt Mary told me that I could come to her house and shoot rabbits and squirrels!" The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

"Um, buddy, I think I heard Dad tell you that you can't really kill a bunny with a BBGun. It would only hurt it. And that's no good at all. And, if you did kill it, you also must skin it and eat it."

"But, Mom, I don't know how to cook it."

"Oh, I'm sure Aunt Mary knows how. She could probably teach you how skin it, too." Aunt Mary is one of those strong southern women who could feed their family in drought or famine through sheer will.

"Ummm, I don't think I want to shoot any rabbits."

That's my boy.

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