For all you cynics who believe that dreams can’t come true, I have photographic proof to the contrary: my son Sage has finally obtained the pooper scooper he’s always dreamed of, or at least has dreamed of since our first run to the local farm supply store to get puppy food almost three weeks ago. He and I had had a heated argument at the time, he insisting that we buy a pooper scooper, I insisting that since we’re country people, we need no such big city niceties. However, his poignant desire to live with his grandmother specifically so he could scoop poop for her two large dogs began to wear me down, and Chaussette’s newly acquired habit of leaving her semi-frozen piles squatting on the newly exposed brown grass by our front door finished me off. Today, I’m pleased to report, Sage has acquired his poop-scooping heart’s desire, and the piles by our front door have been relocated. At least until Chaussette replaces them. But what the dog deposits, the child shall scoop: thus will the Great Cycle of Life be perpetuated.
Dreams DO come true!