Page 45 of Soldier's Chrismas Hope
The truck bumped a bit more as they headed uphill, past a sign announcing that they were entering private property.
John-John leaned his head against Nora’s shoulder.
“That’s where Joe and Alice Cassidy live,” River told them. “They own the whole farm, and they run it with a bunch of their kids.”
“Wow,” Pixie said. “Kids run this farm?”
“Well, grown-up kids,” River amended. “Like the one driving the truck right now.”
Mr. Williams gave a chuckle from his spot beside them.
“Kids can be a real help on a farm though,” River said. “A lot of my friends in school lived on farms, and they did all kinds of chores in the mornings. I used to help out sometimes.”
“What chores?” Pixie wanted to know.
“Things like feeding and taking care of animals,” River said. “Like grooming the horses, mucking their stalls, and feeding them. Or milking cows.”
“Mucking?” Pixie echoed.
“Well, horses don’t have bathrooms,” River said carefully. “So they do their business in their stalls, and then it’s the farmer’s job to clean it out and put down fresh straw. That’s called mucking.”
“Poop?” John-John popped up from Nora’s shoulder to ask brightly. “Do you mean poop?”
“Uh,” River said, looking a little torn, like maybe he wasn’t sure whether or not he was supposed to condone kids sayingpoop.
“Yes,” Nora said, barely biting back a laugh. “That’s exactly what he means.”
“Everybody poops,” Pixie said wisely, quoting a book their mother had read to them when they were smaller.
“Well, horses certainly do,” River said. “Keeping their stalls clean is a really important chore.”
“They have big poops,” Pixie said. “Right?”
“Very big,” River agreed, nodding.
The little Williams girl was giggling now and both her grandparents were smiling along with her.
“I want to see,” John-John said right away. “I want to look at the poops.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” River offered, quirking a brow at Nora.
“If we get up very early, maybe we can help take care of the horses, John-John,” she told him gently.
“Okay,” Jacob called out from the cab. “Everybody hold onto your hats. We’re heading up the hill.”
John-John put his hands on his head with a smile, but as soon as they left the level drive for the hillside, Nora knew John-John wasn’t going to like it. The path was a lotrougher, and the engine got even louder working to pull them up.
“No,” John-John whimpered. “Too bumpy.”
“This is the hillside that leads to the Christmas trees,” Nora reminded him. “Look up there at all the beautiful evergreens. We’re going to be just like Farmer Bear.”
“Farmer Bear doesn’t ride on a hay truck,” John-John said. “Hewalksup the hill.”
“We’re almost there,” River put in, leaning over to John-John so that the little one could see his face easily. “But if you want, we can ask Jacob to stop the truck, and you and I can walk the rest of the way.”
“I can get out?” John-John asked.
“Absolutely,” River told him. “Not everyone likes a bigbumpitty-bumpride.”
