So today Anna and I are at the grocery store.
At the checkout, I am paying and attending to the bagging, when my almost 4 year old exclaims, "Mom! Look! There's a cowboy!"
We live in the tri-state area. It's uncommon but not unusual to see a man with boots and a Stetson. I mumble how nice dear and she continues her praising observation. Loudly.
"It's a cowboy, Mom! With cowboy boys! I want to be a cowboy!"
Out of instinct, I look up to see the object of my daughter's excitement when the Amish man and his two Amish sons, straw work hats and suspenders all, walk across our path. The man and I caught each other's eye for the split second when I realized that I wanted to die.
"Anna! Honey!" I shush her as I get down to her level. "We are in public. Please use your inside voice."
"Okay, Mommy," she whispers, "but I want to be a cowboy too."
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