adopting a calf


Mrs. Miller's kindergarten class adopted one of our calves for the year. They wanted to adopt one through another program, but it turns out that dairy was fresh out of calves.


No such dilemma here! We've got those little cuties arriving around the clock. Morning, evening, summer, fall, ice storm, dust storm.

Ok, we've never had a dust storm. But we've also never run out of calves either!

In keeping with the election year theme, Mrs. Miller's class voted on what to name their calf. Ever the teacher, she set up a voting station, handed out ballots, and even gave out voting stickers. Staff, parents, kiddos . . . they all took part.

Side note: We like Mrs. Miller's ingenuity. It's never too early to start learning about democracy.


When the ballots were counted and the polling places were closed, when the percentages of students and parents and teachers were counted and the results were in, the winning name for the calf was . . .

Rainbow.

Lucky for her. The runner up name was Moo Moo. No girl wants to be called Moo Moo.

Each month, we send Mrs. Miller's class a little update on Rainbow: what she's eating, how she's growing, what her teeth are like, and whether or not she has yet to jump over the moon.

In return, the kiddos sent us quite a few questions: How much does she weigh? When will she grow up? How old will she be when she can be a mom? Is her hair soft or rough? What does she like to play?  What's her favorite treat? Can she moo?

And we answer!


We love that there's a class full of boys and girls who are so excited to learn about dairy. They may not be growing up on a farm. They may have never seen a cow in real life. Heck, they may not even have any idea where the milk on their Kix comes from.

But thanks to a great relationship between Mrs. Miller's class and Rainbow, they're getting the real deal . . . straight from the horse's calf's mouth.

Who, by the way, is quite glad that the majority rules, because, well, Moo Moo?





2 comments:

  1. The cow I (barely) remember milking at my grandpa's farm was named Moo Moo. I think her philosophy was that you could call her anything you wanted, just don't call her late to dinner. :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Now THAT is a life motto I can support! :)

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