Winter Wheat

by Mildred Walker

  I honked the horn. It grated noisily on the bright spring day.

  “Come on!” I yelled. “It won’t grow while you watch it!”

  Mom waved.

  “Hold your horses!” Dad yelled back. They came up the field together.

  I had not always been glad that I was their child, but today I had a kind of pride in being born to them.