For Dawson's birthday he went pheasant hunting with Blair and Andrew. While I don't condone hunting, Dawson said that this was one of the funnest things he's done in his life. I shed a tear when he sent me the pictures of the dead birds.
Yuck.
To make myself feel a little better I just started calling Dawson "Gale" and pretended that we were living in the Hunger Games and he was hunting for our survival.
When he got home he proudly handed me the packaged up pheasant meat that they had shot just that day. For some reason he thinks that it's going to make a great crockpot meal. Excuse me while I go throw up a little bit.
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