Growing Up!

Growing Up!  No, I am not referring to myself because that will never happen.  I am referring to my eleven year-old son because he helped me mow the lawn today, and I am very proud of him.

I remember when my folks got rid of the sheep, and I had to mow the yard with a pair of scissors.  In the snow and rain.  With wolves nipping at my heels… Actually, I was about my son’s age, and I am sure Dad’s mower did not weigh as much as mine.  The old mower Dad had was a K-Mart blue-light special and was not self-propelled.  It only went as fast as I could push it, which was fast because I use to be built like the young Arnold Schwarzenegger:

Then, I got married …had kid … stopped lifting weights … shed a few dozen pounds … and the rest is ancient history.

I was a little nervous when I let my son get behind this racing slicer-dicer, also known as a Honda self-propelled mower.  My imagination conjured up images of the dogs darting in front of it and becoming lawn-kill.  

Never fear though, the dogs are smarter than I thought (or smarter than me), and they avoided the young lad.  Plus, Andy did a great job of mowing!   It only took him a minute to learn how to release the self-propel drive and turn the mower to cut in a new direction.  Mowing never felt easier for me!  I might even pay him a dollar next time.  I am being generous.  My dad paid me in dinners.  And clothes.  And a bed in the house.)

I can not wait until next summer to sit on the front porch, sip lemonade, and watch a boy grow up.



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