Milo and Hot Sausage

It's been a while since I've written.  There is always some discussion with myself as to which story, how much of it and where to stop, I want to share.  Without it going on into 10 other stories that are related or that I was reminded of.
When my Dad called you at 4 in the morning on a school day, he meant for you to hit the floor moving.  There was a lot to get done, then shower, dress and eat, before getting on the school bus, that he and Mom drove, and it pulled out of the driveway at 6:45 a.m., sharp, with or without me on it.  At this point, all stove up and arthritic, it's strange to think about how busy and active I was growing up, we all were, my parents worked long, hard hours on the farm/ranch too.  If you just farm, winter finds you working on equipment preparing for the spring, and not much else.  But if you run cattle too, which we did, mostly cow/calf operation, you don't have an 'off season'.  And if your ground is irrigated, which most of ours was, you are running from before sunup to way past dark.  My parents worked together most of their married life, and just added me to the mix when I came along. Dad really didn't think a thing about dropping you off at a tractor/plow in one field, while he headed to another, and Mom be in yet another field plowing, and he not remember to come back to get you until you were having to use the headlights on the tractor to plow.  I don't know that he forgot me, but it sure seemed that way at times.  He started me on tractor driving with a plow attached when I was 5.  Drove me down to the end of the field by the house where the little Massey 65 sat with the knife sled on it and had me get on it.  He showed me which brake helped the tractor turn left, which one helped it turn right, the handle that picked the plow up, and push it down to drop the plow back down, put the right front tire in the fourth row and drop your plow, give it some gas and when you get going, flip the high/low up, and don't cut down the feed.  Then he left.  I am not kidding.  This was all before breakfast.  I'm not sure how long I was plowing, but later on he came back to get me, and we went to the house to eat.  At breakfast he and my Mom were having a discussion about my driving a tractor without a cab on it or a seat belt either, and if I were to fall off of it those knife sled blades were going to cut me in a million pieces.  Well, actually, Mom was having the discussion and Dad was listening.  I was just eating my hot sausage, biscuits and gravy and keeping my mouth shut.  Dad didn't say much, as I remember, other than, 'Aw, Mama, she ain't gonna fall off.'  And after breakfast drove me right back down to the field and put me right back up on the tractor.  I didn't fall off and I didn't cut the milo down either!