Lloyd didn’t have school on Wednesday, and he came to the Center to install that printer and stayed for lunch, because the children worship him and think he is magical. (They also think he’s my dad, because that’s the grown-up man who picks you up from school, but then again, they are four.)
Today I asked Lloyd to tell his famous scarred-childhood turkey story to the children. Let’s see it I can recount it as he told it today:
“When I was little, I lived on a farm. Do you know what a farm is? (Insert irrelevant stories about dogs, told by the children, here.) Well, my job on the farm was to open the gate when my dad was driving the tractor to move big hay bales for the cows, then close the gate so the cows wouldn’t get out. (Insert children’s irrelevant stories about cows here) There was a creek there. Do you know what a creek is? Well, creeks have a little water, and usually rocks, but this year the creek had sand, and I loved playing in the sand. I was playing in the sand and heard a sound – a rustling sound. I looked around, but there was nothing. I heard it again, and there was nothing. I heard it again, and when I looked up – I was surrounded by turkeys! I jumped up! Then they jumped up! Then they flew away! It was scary. And that, children, is why I love Thanksgiving.”
The children loved him all the more for it, and later in the day, retold his story.