One of Mitch's favorite books when he was first learning to read was Silly Old Possum by Joy Cowley. It's a short, simple story about a possum who gets inside a house. Each page contained no more than ten words - the final three of which were always "silly old possum":
Possum up a tree. Silly old possum.
Possum down the chimney. Silly old possum.
We read it to Mitch hundreds of times, and he read it back to us just as often. Tonight, fittingly while Mitch is home for the weekend, we added the final chapter to the Silly Old Possum saga:
Possum in our yard. Silly old possum.
Possum meets dogs. Silly old possum.
Possum plays possum. Silly old possum.
Possum is dead. Silly old possum
For those keeping score at home, that brings the total to two snakes, one muskrat, a couple mice, numerous toads, and one poor bird that I actually felt sorry for. Green Acres is the place to be. Farm living is the life for me. . .