Too funny not to share

Toby is almost 5 years old, and last weekend my husband, Ryan, took him out squirrel hunting for the very first time. They sat silently in the woods and when the time was right, Ryan pulled the trigger and the squirrel, still with a nut in his mouth, took his final breath.
Ryan went to retrieve the little guy and left my own little guy sitting silent at the tree so that they could wait for the next squirrel to hop by. When he got back, Toby picked up the dead animal, petted it, and at one point even rubbed his cheek on the soft fur.
Ryan was very impressed that Toby wasn't afraid of the dead animal.
When it came time to dress and clean the animal, Toby was right there to learn. He happily scooped the guts out with his little hands. Again, Ryan was very impressed.
Examining all of the body parts, Toby asked "is this the poop-hole, dad?"
"No," answered his Dad, not really ready for what came next, "that is his weiner. And that there are his, uh, er, his nuts."
Then Ellen the older sister came by.
"Look, Ellen," says wise Toby, "that's where the squirrel keeps the nuts that the finds!"
Ryan quickly corrected him, but really couldn't blame him. It makes sense, doesn't it? Squirrel collects nuts, and has a little pouch for them. Good engineering?
So when I walked up a few minutes later after the situation had been cleared up, Toby held out his bloody little hand and said to me, "here mom. This is a squirrel ball," and he tossed the tiny testicle into the woods.

Squirrel stew tomorrow. Nut free.


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