He laughed particularly hard when I spoke about the time I’d tried to ride on one of my cousin’s cows because my brother had told me it was just like riding a horse. News flash, it wasn’t. I’d ended up walking home covered in shit—literally—with a bruised ass and an even more bruised ego. Dad had laughed his ass off. He’d called me “shithead” for months. Highly amused. Mama…was not so much.
