Our Country Boy Convert

Here we are on day 4 of the Webling invasion on the ranch. In case you don't know what I mean, my friend Mollie's boy has been bunked up with us while she and her man have been partying down in Vegas.
As my husband would phrase it, Carson is a town boy. Now, for my non-Okie readers, I'm sure you are giggling at the notion of a young man who lives in a community of 10,000 that goes by the name of Elk City being a "town" boy. But, to Rowdy, any area that is inhabited by more than, I don't know, 500 people spread out over 20 square miles might as well be South Central Los Angeles.
Just a few hours away from home, Carson the "town" boy, he's already picked up some of my "country" boys' ways. On morning one and morning two, he found his way to the bathroom to tinkle in the potty. But, by yesterday, he was outside with my boys, masking in the freedom of whizzing off the porch.
Rowdy, as you know, is totally down with the exploitation of child labor. The day he found out I was pregnant with Ridge Rowdy daydreamed about the day he could bark, "Jump down in that grainery, boy, and clean that shit out," or "Run down there and grab that gate and let's sort of those sick calves." I could go on forever. And, as Rowdy continues to inquire about just when I will be caving in and bearing one more future employee, I know his motivation. Dude, we are getting old and we need some teenagers about the time we are 50.
Anyways, after the boys finished their lunches, we went outside to to play and sweep underneath the carport. When Ridge got his new boots for school, we started calling his beloved old pair that he's worn every single day for a year his "work" boots. He just couldn't take the pain of totally retiring them, plus it keeps the new ones looking shiny a little longer.
So, as we went outside, Carson shucked his checkered shoes and pulled upon a spare set of ours while declaring, "These are MY work boots!?
Yup, he's becoming a country convert. Rowdy is basking in his victory. He has one more night with us, so perhaps I'll send him back in a pearl snap with a lunch pale full of calf fries.