Dairy farming and dress pants

Anna was explaining to me the other night how dairy farming works.

You see, the cows go down (don't ask specifics, apparently) and milk their selves [sic] and it makes a river (this must be American dairy farms, where they are allowed those hyper-production hormones) and the farmers go down to the river of milk with their buckets and dip them in and carry them back to the farm to give to people.

Wow. What a method.

Maybe this is what was going on in the Bible with that land that was flowing with milk... (and honey - so did the bees use a similar technique?).
Possibly where she got this idea. Otherwise I'm stumped.

Also heard, after watching some traditional Hawaiian dancing on YouTube: "I wish I could go to Hulaland."

But one of the funniest stories remains:
Anna attends a school-readiness program one day a week. Since I don't have a car home with which to take her, we have various people with whom she gets a ride or from whom I borrow a car. One of the families only counts sons among their number; their mother is the only female in the house. One of these young sons is in Anna's class. His usual school-time garb includes sweat pants, runners and a hoodie sweat shirt, all unmatched, of course. Even the shoes are not typically laced up or tied.

However, on the days where he knows they are coming to pick up Anna, he demands to wear his dress shirt and pants. He looked like he was ready to be the Ring Bearer in some one's wedding last time they showed up in our driveway. He even comes to the door to pick her up; hands in pockets, standing a bit off from the door, looking sheepish.

The following week when we didn't ride with them, but I still saw him at school, there he was back in the sloppy sweat pants again.

Hee larious.

The older son was helping Anna get her belt on and she said, while smoothing out her skirt, "Thank you, Brian, for helping me with my belt." And the brothers all looked at each other surprised like, uh, duh, what are we supposed to do?
"Uh, Sure. No prob," came the clumsy reply. Their mother thinks it is great that they are passively forced into being gentlemen in the presence of a lady.

Then today we were listening to Anne Sophie Mutter playing the Sibelius violin concerto, and there is this where there are really fast triplet arpeggios in complex chords - so it sounds a little harried. Anna walked over and looked and the stereo and laughed. "*chuckle* It sounds like they are rewinding!" Then after a minute it resolved into something a little less harmonically obtuse with the full orchestra, and she said, "OK! *phew* Now they pushed play!"

I was cracking up!