moooAs I was sitting on the couch with Erin this evening I was doing my dead-on impression of a cow’s “moooo.” I don’t boast about many things, but I do a DARN GOOD cow moo.

So, I’m sitting there with Erin on my knee, I’m mooing my fat head off when all of a sudden Erin bursts into tears and screams. Her eyes piercing mine, as if to say, “My daddy’s a cow and that makes me part-cow!” I didn’t know what else to do but to assure her that Daddy’s not a cow. “Daddy’s not a cow, Erin. Daddy’s not a cow. You’re a real little girl, I promise! Daddy’s not a cow.” Perhaps laughing at her while I was saying that wasn’t the quickest way to soothe her…

She eventually calmed down and let her cow daddy give her a bath. Perhaps I’ll wait till she’s a tad older before I attempt my cow moo again. She just doesn’t know what she’s missing.

I’m sorry, but my cow moo is not for sale or hire. I do not do command performances. My talent is for my child and wife’s ears only. Don’t ask.