I feel bad for any delivery person that has to breech the threshold of my driveway. Between the gang of chickens, wild one-horned goat, and neighbor's over excited peeing machine (a.k.a. male dog), their vehicle is surely to be defiled by some critter...two if they're lucky. Besides the animals, they're usually faced with at least one or two half-naked kids and a mean Mommazilla yelling at them to cover up their goodies. Last week proved to be no different when the gentleman from Schwan's brought our family my "home cooked" meals.

I saw Chico's floppy goat ears perk up at the sound of the loud diesel motor purring down our driveway. When he did his little prance and a kick, I knew that it was the Schwan's truck as Chico loves visitors, especially ones that deliver food and delectable head scratches. We have a wonderful patient Schwan's guy (SG) that not only puts up with the unruly goat, but also helps to give my children ideas of what sweet treats his magical "ice cream truck" (according to C-dub) contains. A couple of visits ago he was so nice to even supply C-dub and Taterbug with a catalog, for easier shopping. Five pounds and an extra $20 later, we were set with four different types of ice cream confections that I happily quality controlled for the sake of my children.

On this particular visit, Chico did his best to follow SG all around his truck, nosing him around as SG quickly gathered our order together. Chico would casually nibble on SG's date book and chew on the ice whenever the freezer compartment was open. SG was careful to make sure that Chico did not abscond with any of his frozen concoctions and even more careful to protect his own family jewels as Chico was feeling especially amorous today, sharing the head butting love of his one horn.

As I was waiting, I struggled to keep Gun-Gun out of the lake size mud puddle that had grown at the edge of our driveway. Gun-Gun had proclaimed his wish to "STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!" in the water, with or without my final approval. I finally picked him up in my arms while SG brought over our frozen goodies. SG proceeded to explain the monthly specials while Gun-Gun continued to wiggle and squirm. He did his best mommy torture by constantly beeping my nose with his tiny little dirty and stinky fingers, and then arching his back in an attempt to perform a five foot high dive trick. He finally stopped wiggling and I heard him start chanting. At first it was silent and then the melodic sounds got louder as I attempted to figure out what he was saying over and over again. "Booobeees! Booobeees! Booobeees, mama!" I then felt a sudden burst of cold air and looked down to see that Gun-Gun had hooked his little finger in the top of my shirt, pulling it out and peering down it as if in attempt to start an echo of his chanting. Boobies! It was finally clear as day. Gun-Gun was using his developing category and precocious baby skills to show SG my boobies. SG cleared his throat, chuckling, and put away his sales flyer. I smiled back and told him, "I guess that will be it for today. I think we've both seen enough."

SG left and I took Gun-Gun and my home-cooked meals into the house. Gun-Gun continued to play peek-a-boo in my shirt and throughout the day would check in on his new "friends." SG has yet to return back to my house but I feel as though our relationship has progressed to a much higher level. I most certainly will buy an extra set of chicken enchiladas next week, and perhaps some extra brownie cups. He earned it through our painful *confidential* understanding and willingness not to laugh too hard at my "goodies."