Corn, Cow Pies & Cops

Remember a few weeks ago when I said I would never again take a road trip while our kids are toddlers? Remember that? Remember how I said I’d rather rip off my toenails with a crowbar?

Yeah. I lied.

Actually, I didn’t lie. I just forgot that we planned this Labor Day weekend trip to my in-laws’ farm house in Indiana. So, last Thursday morning—around (ahem) noon—we piled in the car, set Blues Clues on constant loop, and made the 10-hour trek to the Hoosier State.

And even though another long trip was involved, I was excited to get away from the Kansas City heat and to visit with my in-laws on their beautiful farm.

Quaint, little farm house, hmmm?

I always love going there. I’m not sure if it’s the way JJ’s face lights up when he sees the endless piles of rocks and the spring-fed pond just begging to meet face-to-face. It could be the way Averi yells, “PaPaaaaaaa” when she sees Brian’s dad. Maybe it’s the way Brian turns into a country boy and starts spitting a lot and referring to me as “womenfolk.”

Maybe it’s the opportunity for me to get into nature and capture something outside my living room for a change—better yet, something outside the Internet.

Because Indiana corn knows nothing about twerking. And that makes me really happy.

Stay innocent, you slightly-matured, sweet corn stalk. (Get it? Sweet corn.)

All of you. Stay true to the One who created you.

Don’t follow every self-gratifying, ridiculous fad that the wind blows in your direction.

And don’t shed your shucks just so the world can expose you, chew you up and spit you out.

I know it sounds corny, but it truly is amaizeing what God has in store for you.

[Oh wow. I think Katy’s been hitting the ethanol.]

A third of my photos from this past weekend were of hay bales. I’m really not sure why I love to photograph them so much. It could be their understated beauty.

Their perfect form and the way each one looks exactly like the others. (Except for the guy below. He looks like Snuffleupagus from Sesame Street.)

(You know I’m right.)

Maybe it’s the way hay bales stand tall—yet unimposing—against the vast, Indiana landscape.

Or the way the sunbeams dance through their wispy strands.

Or it could just be the way they sit perfectly still. So quiet. So subdued.

Unlike SOMEONE I know.

Robyn (Brian’s step-mom) wised up and covered the furniture with brown paper so Averi could do what Averi does:  run buck wild.

“What? Who’s wild? To whom do you refer, Moooooooom?!?”

“Seriously, don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I hate it when you do that. Gah, you’re the worst mother EVER!”

(I’m paraphrasing, here. Check back in 11 years, and that might be a direct quote.)

Averi had a blast this weekend—previous photo notwithstanding.

But, like me (and her daddy too if we’re being honest), she has a finite appreciation for bugs and cow dung.

Yeah, I’m talking to you, buddy.

JJ, on the other hand, could absolutely live outside. The rocks, the bugs, the water, the fish—it’s all too exciting for him. He wasn’t even fazed when he picked up a dried, flattened cow pie, snapped it in half, and COVERED himself in dried dung dust.

(Ugh. I’m still nauseous just thinking about it.)

Nothing makes our boy happier than the great outdoors.

To add to the excitement, JJ even caught his first “one, two, three, four, five…SIX FISH” in Grandpa’s pond.

The pond that my father-in-law just stocked on Memorial Day weekend and a bit more this past weekend.

Those little babies will live up to their “Largemouth” name soon enough.

Grandpa then tried to get JJ to kiss his “big” catch.

Yeah, I don’t know either. I think this is some weird Morgan ritual wherein the male patriarch torments the youngest male so that he will in turn torment his own offspring one day. I don’t question it.

It’s their legacy.

And speaking of legacies, I had the chance to re-introduce myself to Robyn’s family for the first time in over a decade.

They’re Italians.

From Chicago.

They’re so much fun.

And they brought Italian beef to share.

Basically, I’m in love.

With the beef, I mean.

And Robyn’s family is pretty awesome too.

Okay, I’m also love with Brian.

But let’s talk about Brian for a minute, shall we? Because there’s something I just have to get off my chest.

Mind you, all of my blog posts (and most of my social media posts as well) are edited and approved by my husband, so please don’t think he’s the unwitting butt of my jokes. He’s the more-than-willing butt of my jokes. He gladly putts his butt on the line to give me an incredible amount of material. Daily.

That said, I’ll have you know that as we drove back to Kansas from Indiana this weekend, we had the wonderful opportunity to discuss law and order with our children.

No, not the show. The real thing.

Again.

I hope you keep checking back because I plan to reenact this scene in video form. There is no better way to describe the atmosphere in the car than through a vlog.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaand scene.

What about you guys? Did any of you get a speeding ticket this past weekend? Did any of you say “I told you so” to your lead-footed spouse this weekend?