Muscoot Farms Memories: From Child to Teen in Westchester County

Disclaimer: I am a dad living in Westchester, New York. The names of all people, but not all places, have been changed to protect the innocent and me from the glares of my neighbors who are definitely not reading this blog.

 On Sunday, there is sheep sheering at Muscoot Farms at noon. I will not be attending as it is Mother's Day, and I'm splitting my time celebrating the mother of my children, who doesn't know if she's free that day, and my actual mother (massages for my wife and brunch for the woman who brought me into this world). However, if I had my druthers, if I had a choice, I would choose to go to Muscoot with its two tractors for kids to pose for pictures on, to relive the moments I spent with my oldest child,  staring at horses, donkeys, and chickens. Sometimes we'd argue about whether or not a cow can have horns, or whether that just made them bulls (I still don't know the answer. I should probably look that up). 

When I think about the summer, I often think about my daughter in her red sweatpants (no matter the weather) and blue Mets shirt, hopping out of the car and running onto that Katonah based farm. Now she is older, in middle school, always on her cell phone, has strong opinions about Tik Tok, and thinks I'm useless because I don't know who Olivia Rodrigo or Sabrina Carpenter is (Jokes on her. I still watch the MTV VMAs because I'm an old and they've been on that award show).  She's probably right. As I'm writing this, she's on the phone talking to her friend about a teacher she despises because of grade she got in his class. She's talking about her favorite store at the Westchester Mall. I still remember her on that farm. 

Time moves quickly, so do cows with horns.