When William was little Adrian used to let him ride the lawnmower with the blade up. Then he got big enough to mow. And for a while he was happy. He felt like a big kid. It was even, do I dare say, fun?
When Lucy and Rachel were little they didn't want to mow, they wanted to feed the baby. Problem was, I was breastfeeding.
Mom, can we nurse the baby?
Umm, no. So they took baby dolls and pulled their shirts up and nursed their babies. They would just sit silently next to me while I nursed.
Then Harrison started looking longingly at the lawnmower.
Puhleeeze can I mow like William?
No. And then one magic day about 3 or 4 years ago.
PUHLEEEEZE can I mow.
Unbridled joy. It lasted about one summer and then some of the most grueling parenting known to mankind. Coordinating two boys that would rather have their toes cut off than mow, to mow. In the HOT Tennessee summer. And mowing season starts in the beginning of March and ends about the first of November. And don't even mention weed eating. Suddenly text messaging sounds like a better form of parent child communication than actually being in the same room with them when vile words like weed eating have to be mentioned.
Alas, poor disgruntled teens, salvation is in sight!
And it comes in the form of a perky 9 year old girl!
Hello, you poor people not on a mower. Oh, are you having to pick up sticks while I zoom by in 4Th gear?
I make dirt look good. Or maybe I make John Deere lawnmowers look good.
Sometimes lawnmower is similar to the Teacup ride at Disney. Hold on tight while I swing this puppy around!
Really, there is no better way to spend an afternoon.
Look, no hands.
How long until she thinks lawn mowing is the worst thing to do on the face of the earth? The English bookies will be taking bets.