I truly believe I could write a book just based on Slayton. He has provided me with enough material to write endlessly for hours, so I will tell a short story for now because I'm sure there will be many more to come.
In the fall of 1999 or somewhere in that near vacinity, we started to gut the cabin that would soon become our home. When I say we, I really mean my husband because I was to busy with kids to do much else other than that. Anyway, back to the boy. Like I said, Ron was up gutting the cabin and I had begged him to take Slayt because even at a year and a half he was so busy that it was all I could do to get through the day without wanting to run away and join the circus. At that point in my life, the circus would have been less busy and almost relaxing. Ron did take Slayt with him and they began working on things that men do when they are playing carpenter. The cabin was on top of a hill in the middle of no where. Ron was working away and all of a sudden Slayt started shrieking "make it stop, the bugs are too loud". My husband looked over at Slayton who was sitting by an open window, and saw his son with his hands cupped over his ears and his face all screwed up into a contorted expression. Nothing Ron did could convince Slayt that the bugs weren't to loud. Every two minutes Slayt would holler "AHHHHHHHH the bugs, their too loud, aaaahh". Oh my gosh, my poor husband. When they pulled in the driveway less than two hours after they had left, i knew something was wrong. Ron came in the house red faced and exasperated and said "the bugs were too loud". It was all I could do not to laugh because Slayt seemed as happy as could be right then. Obviously country bugs are much louder than town bugs.
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