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June 30, 2008

The Unlucky Goat

You want to make sure you get your money’s worth when you send a kid to camp, so once Drew returned we had all sorts of questions for him. He’s not the talkative type. We took all three boys out for pizza and waited until Finn and Porter were off playing pinball before we began the interrogation. How was the food? Who were his friends? Did he get homesick? What were his favorite activities?

We got the most shocking response when Bill asked, “What was the most exciting thing that happened while you were there?”

“Well, camp has this goat, and I don’t really know why, but it hangs out with the horses, so I saw the goat a lot since I ride horses a lot. One day they had to take the goat to get his balls chopped off.” Drew dissolved into naughty giggles.

Finn wandered back and slid into the booth next to me.

“You didn’t watch them do it, did you?” I asked, wondering if the camp was more rustic than I’d previously thought.

“No, they took him to a goat doctor and he cut off the goat’s balls.”

Finn clapped his hands and laughed. “Nothing like that ever happened when I was at camp. Maybe I should have gone instead of playing baseball.”

“What’s even funnier is the reason they had to chop off his balls,” Drew said.

“It’s more polite to say that the goat was neutered, honey,” I said.

“Why did they have to chop off the goat’s balls? I mean, neuter him?” Finn asked, although I was pinching his thigh in a way that clearly meant “Do not pursue this topic because I have not explained the facts of life to your brothers and I’m sure not going to get into it here at La Dama before our pizza arrives.”

“They said you have to do that so the goat won’t pee himself,” Drew said matter of factly.

“You mean the goat will pee on himself if they don’t chop—neuter him?” Bill asked. “That’s what they said?”

“Sure.” Drew was still giggling and Finn was covering his eyes with his hands while he shook. “Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure they were giving you good information,” Bill said.


Two years ago in My Tiny Kingdom: From The Mail Box: Finn At Camp

Posted by Anne Glamore @ 8:45 am • Googly Eyes: Make Love Not War   

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4 Responses to “The Unlucky Goat”

  1. Oh my goodness…this is hilarious and SO true!

    My mom used to raise goats and the male goat she used for breeding? SUPER GROSS. My dad’s favorite trick to play on new people who visited was to tell them he (the goat, not my dad) loved being scratched under the chin–which is where the worst of the smell was located. So awful.

    I would imagine at a summer camp it would probably be inconvenient to have a stinky goat hanging around. Although they might have chosen a less conspicuous time to take the goat in to be castrated (technically it is supposed to be done when they are weened as babies). Good grief, I know way too much.

    Amanda’s last blog post..Under the Category: YUM

  2. Oh. My. Goodness. I haven’t laughed this hard for a while.

    Honeybell’s last blog post..Fred Phelps Should Really Just Stop Breathing

  3. HAHAHA — that is SO funny!

    Amy’s last blog post..At Sea

  4. I laughed out loud- which prompted Headless Girl to come read to find out what all the fuss was.


    Headless Mom’s last blog post..T- Minus 7 Days

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I'm Anne Glamore, wife, mother, lawyer and blogger. I have three boys, and I'm desperately trying to train them to become Southern gentlemen, but that may be an unrealistic goal. At this point I'd be ecstatic if they'd quit farting at the dinner table. If you're new here, check out the Readers' Favorite Posts below or browse through the Categories. I write about my attempts to teach the boys about peckers and sex (which we call "making googly eyes"), my struggles with hepatitis C and spine surgery, the boys' adventures with fire and pets, my mom's death from ovarian cancer, my love of cooking (with plenty of recipes) and anything else that crosses my mind. Join me on Twitter or StumbleUpon or Email me. I'm happy to speak to your group or club.

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