I even got ice cream out of it once. What can I say, either I played the part well or the older farmer's wife knew what we were up to and played along (I think more the latter than the former).
What an adorable stinker you were. Grand daddy, or Uncle Greendaddy, owned more than one farm that either friends or relatives lived on and worked. He used to take us up to see check on them. I recall pushing the pigs off in the mud puddles. The pigs were bewildered and slightly annoyed with us brats. Another time we went to check on the chickens, they lived in a what we called a chicken motel: the really, really big commerical chicken coops. It had snowed and was very cold. But the coop was warm and the ammonia smell from the chickens nearly knocked me out.
I also recall on one trip up there, he saw a long rectangular patch on the high way. He pointed it out and told us a story. "See that patch on the road? One time a fella was driving a truck loaded with dynamite. The truck blew up and they had to pick the driver up in baskets." We were in awe, my younger brother and I. "Wow, really? Wow. Mannnn."
Years later, as an adult, I noticed lots and lots of those huge, vehicle sized patches on highways. That is when I realized Grand Dad had been pulling our legs. And also when I realized that is where I got my leg pulling gift from. The only thing is, I can't do it without eventually laughing, when asked if what I said was true.
