Today Karlee invited a friend over from her class to play. We went to story time at the library and then to McDonalds. As we were driving down the driveway to our house, the little friend says "oh you live on a farm?" And Karlee replies "We don't live on a farm" (basically like you idiot!) So I say well we kind of do, we have animals like goats, chickens, a dog (not ours, but lives in our field), two cats, and we use to have cows I say. Then Karlee informs the friend that we had cows until we chopped them. And then continues in graphic detail explaining the butchering process that happened in our field with our two cows. I was thinking wow Karlee after I told her to talk about something different why don't you tell this poor little girl about the massacre that is happening out in the chicken coop with the raccoons getting three chickens over the last couple of weeks and how their bones and pieces of them lay scattered all over that same field where the cows were chopped. Maybe we aren't a farm, but a cemetery for animals...Do you ever wonder the stories kids tell their moms after they've played at your house for an afternoon?