One day when I was young, I was sent to “help” my dad with farm chores in the middle of a freezing-cold Oklahoma winter. As I bundled up in my coveralls, stocking cap, gloves and boots, I was jealous of my younger siblings, who got to stay home with Mom in the warm house.
After climbing into the pickup, though, I was delighted to be Daddy’s girl.
Yelling all the words to every country song on the radio as Dad tried to maneuver down slick and snowy roads, I tried to charm him with my off-tone singing and nonstop chatter.
We finally arrived at our destination, and Dad started chopping the ice in the stock tank while I watched. After a few moments, I could no longer resist touching the broken blocks of ice. Each piece of ice was like a boat, and I began pushing them around in the water. Unfortunately, though, as Dad continued chopping the ice, all of my boats became centered in the middle of the tank.
As I leaned farther over the stock tank, standing on my tiptoes and balancing myself on the rim of the tank, Dad warned me, saying, “You’re going to fall in the tank, Sis.”
Usually a strong word from my dad was all I needed to rethink a situation, but not this time. Those ice boats were too enticing, so I kept running around the stock tank, leaning over further and further.
Overwhelmed by the feeling that I was right and Dad was wrong, I became braver and braver — until I fell in the stock tank, head first. In no time, Dad pulled me out and rushed me to the warm pickup. He never said a word, and I didn’t make a sound all the way home, except for my teeth chattering!
Read more fun winter tales by CAPPER’s readers in Winter Stories.
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