K heads flies to Illinois tomorrow. He will be farming with family for the better part of the summer. Ever since the master's and two other Illinois families left for Texas over 25 years ago, the southern transplants have been sending their children back to farm in the summer. We decided to start a second generation on this tradition.
With K too old for the daycare this year, it just made sense for him to spend time in the fields--forming relationships with his extended family--as opposed to being cooped up as a couch potato in the house. Of course, we are going to miss him sorely. He is our go-to man. I'm sure we don't fully realize how much.
Cara will be devestated. She and K are TIGHT. From the day we brought her home from Corpus Christi, K has made it his personal goal to see to her every whim and fancy. He has spoiled that child. You know, if she has a nightmare, she doesn't cry out for me. She doesn't cry out for Daddy. She calls for Bubba. And Bubba comes running every time. Yesterday, I heard Abby trying to warn her, "You, little girl, are in for a rude awakening. You are going to have to learn to do things for yourself. 'Cause I'm not going to do them for you. Your not gonna boss me around like you do K. No sireee, Bob..."