This is day 1 of Dave's annual pheasant hunting trip to South Dakota. I am thankful he is cutting this year short, but also thankful that he gets some time away with his friends and his dogs.
When putting Layla down for her nap she asked me where Daddy was working today. I reminded her that he wasn't working, that he was hunting. "Oh yeah," she said.
"Layla, do you remember what daddy hunts for?"
"Yes, dogs."
"No honey, he hunts with his dogs, but he doesn't hunt the dogs. He hunts birds, remember? Pheasant."
"No mom, he does this," she explains as she gets up into the standing position on her bed, legs spread, knees bent and in the perfect shooting position. She then yells, "Reba," which is how Dave releases a dog to fetch a bird. She then apparently shoots Reba.
I'm a little horrified that my daughter has just shot a dog in her imagination.
Layla then sits down and says, "see mom, you just shoot her and she brings the pheasant back."
OK, I'm a little less horrified. She clearly doesn't understand. But oh my. My, oh my, oh my. Dave has some explaining to do when he gets home!
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1 comment:
oh dear....yes, sounds like daddy has some splanin' to do. :) I can never get enough of her stories!
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