Earlier this week I pulled into the driveway after work and saw Grace and Scott “galloping” around in the front yard. Grace explained that they were “riding their turkeys.”
She saddled up again and gave me a demonstration. “If you make this sound, he goes left,” she explained. “If you make this sound, he goes right, and if you go like this, he’ll circle back to the start.” Then, while she pretended to tie the turkey’s reins to the porch post, she said what I was afraid she’d say: “Now you try it.”
I’ve done a lot of goofy things to entertain my little princess, but this was one indulgence I wasn’t ready to grant, at least at that moment. “No, honey,” I demurred, “I’m afraid if the neighbors saw me riding around on a turkey at my age, they’d think I was silly.”
“Daddy, it’s okay,” she assured me. “He’s invisible.”
Somehow, I wasn’t convinced that would help my situation.
The next day, I asked if the turkey was getting wet in the rain, and she said, “No, he’s in his pen.” Just to tweak her, I said, “Oh, no, I’m afraid he got out of the pen. I saw a turkey running down the street after the mailman yelling, ‘Gobble Gobble, Gimme Mail!'” Without missing a beat, she answered, “Well, it couldn’t have been mine. He’s an off-road turkey.”
Check and mate.