A New Father & Baby

Everytime my son goes to our neighbors house, something always happens.
Something bazaar to me.

Our neighbor is a true, genuine redneck.
It's okay to me now ~ I've gotten used to it.
They are everywhere out there and I must say that I may be turning into one.
Never thought I would ever say that.
It's just easier to live with it, accept it and deal with it and go on.

Let me rephrase that ~ I didn't choose to become one. It just happened.
Not overnight either.
This happened because I believe my husband is and now my son. It spread....
they are a reflection of me as I am a reflection of them. They just seem to overshadow me.

My neighbor is about 50 or 55 I would guess.
His hobby is hunting wild hogs.
He has wild hog babies running around in his pasture.
Some would think that's odd - I see them everyday so its not anymore.
That's how I have come to the conclusion that I must be a redneck too.

His expertise came in handy one night.
A "daddy" wild hog seemed to feel at home on our front porch trapping us inside. We had no gun ~ nothing to defend ourselves. It had tusks ~ ramming into the front door. Against my husbands wishes, I called my neighbor to ask him to intercede. Him, his friends, his hunting dogs, flashlights and gigantic trap, took down this giant wild hog, put him in the trap and left. My husband was humiliated ~ we live on a farm with no gun. We didn't even get any bacon out of the deal.

My son visits this neighbor about 3 or 4 times a week.
Helps him feed his animals, rides goats, mules, and helps skin animals.
For example, raccoons ~

This neighbor will do anything for my son ~ literally.

My son wanted to bring home the raccoon meat in a ziplock bag to have it for dinner.
Ummmm.....yuck and NO I'm not that much of a redneck. And not the beaver either btw.

I am a very nice mom I believe.
At any other point in my life I would have freaked out, had a nervous breakdown, jumped in my car and headed back to civilization. Maybe I've become a redneck.

My son brings homes wild hog tails ~ antlers ~ horns ~ skins.
All icky.

Tonight he brought home something different.
Something that must officially term me and my family as rednecks.
No doubt about it ~ we must be. None of us have complained.

A baby goat.
Just born.
The mother abandoned it and wouldn't feed it.
My son to the rescue ~ as always.
Too cold outside.
Needs a new home.
Someplace warm with lots of love.
It cries like a baby.
My son cradles it in his arms like a baby.
Feeds it with a bottle with its mothers milk.
Sleeping in a box next to his bed.

My husband and I have had a long talk about this baby.
The responsibility.
The risk of losing it.

My son knows and will probably sleep with 1 eye open.
That's what a parent does.

I hope it will make it for my sons sake.

More trips to the neighbors house?
Absolutely.

Being a redneck is in my sons blood.
There is no changing that.
He is who he is.
And with that said, he is my son and I will gladly be the reflection of him.