From the countless hours I spent as a young girl learning the value of hard work in the form of mowing, gardening, weeding, wood hauling and general Paul Bunyon type tasks, I have developed a deep understanding and a great appreciation for child labor. I am a proponent of it in my home. "What's the point of having dwarves if they don't do your chores??"
I loathe mowing. It's not that it's difficult. Heck we have a "little buddy" of a tractor that putts across the grass complete with headlights!! Ooooo Muy importante! Ranking right up there with vacuum headlights. I just hate it. I think it stems from having to hand trim with the violent orange Black and Decker grass mauler (Two plates of 3 pronged "blades" that sat atop each other and swayed back and forth. Stupid things couldn't cut or move WATER!). We had about 112 trees, (Yep Dad I counted them for hours every weekend for years) approxiamately a quarter mile of driveway edging PLUS the two house-length patios, the outdoor planter(home to a variety of snakes, toads, earwigs and spiders) and the flowerbeds. But I can hardly recall those details....I've blocked them from my mind.
Anyway, I was outside playing in the dirt recently, loving the feel of the sun on my back and talking to all the little plants and flowers:
"You will grow big and strong. Then I will cut you and stuff you in a vase. You're so PREEEETTY....Stand up tall. SOOOO big." >snip<
when I heard the tractor fire up. If I was fast enough, I could get all the junk out of my beds and throw it into the yard for the tractor to eat. I was humming and pulling...lalala. The breeze was blowing softly and carried the small voice to my ear:
"HEY! MOMMY LOOK AT MEEEEEE!"
Now I have learned when I hear that statement I should put down what EVER is in my hands, take a deep breath and get ready to run.
chugga chugga chugga....
Here comes Boo driving the tractor with Cheech right beside him.
"I'M MOWING!!!" he crows cheerfully.
It was a hilarious sight when you consider my son is not heavy enough to activate the seat. The mower thinks it's driverless without enough weight subsequently shutting itself off. He is about half the size of the steering wheel but is having the time of his life. He's bobbing and weaving, singing "Let's Get it Started in Here...HA!" His little hands are white knuckling the wheel, turning it as hard as he can (with little effect for all that effort). I smile, wave and go back to my weeding. Rounding the bend and looking again, I see Cheech has let him go, barking orders above the engine noise. Boo is in complete control as long as he gets to go straight. In hind sight, Cheech might have considered mowing around the front flowerbed himself before letting "Mini-Mario Andretti" have a spin. I wasn't watching though. I promised myself. No, really I was FORCING myself. I heard the steady whir of the mower, I heard :
"Left a little Ben. More....MORE.... No, LEFT BEN. Your OTHER left...BEN! TURN THE DAMN WHEEL!!!!!!"
There was a pop, some angry grinding (though I saw no actual sparks) and a heavy thump. I finally gave in to peek. Oh Yeah Baby! He'd driven under the tree (turned a little left), through the border fencing for the flowerbed (a little MORE left) and smacked the house. But since he'd gone under the tree branches and didn't want to get knocked off, he simply laid back in the seat; completely reclined. I couldn't tell if there WAS a driver. Holy crap! It looked like he'd fallen off and been gobbled up. The mower was equally uncertain and promptly stopped. WHEW~
Boo rolled over and surveyed the scene. We all had the same look: Eyes WIIIIIDE open, upper lips rolled down over our front teeth but still managing to sputter the Homer Simpson "DOhhhh!" with a hint of a giggle. I covered my mouth with my forearm, faked a cough and snorted. I quickly tried to regain composure but no one believed me. I gave in, sat down and let it out. Oh man, it was HILARIOUS.
"Brake check." I roared craning my neck to see if the mower was actually parked in my music room.
"Are you all RIGHT?" we echoed. I noticed tears threatening to spill out of his still stunningly wide eyes (no biggie, my heart could still be heard down the block) He gave us that grin....
"Yeah, I was just takin a little rest." he shrugged.
Cheech adjusted his hat, patted his son solidly on the back. "Boo? It's okay. It's all right Buddy. Your mom does this stuff all the time but with cars. You just cut it a little too close."
I flipped him a tight smile and wondered how funny he'd think it was if I let all the air out of his stupid tractor tires. High road Baby Jane--Take the high-frickin-road.
Lessons resumed for our " NASCAR yard man". By the evening's bistro/bon fire time, we were all laughing about what didn't happen and Ben deciding to take a nap in the music room on the tractor...
Crisis averted. All went to bed safe and sound...minus one who found the business end of the tire gauge extremely useful in her plot for revenge.
"ssssssssss"
Thanks for taking the time to stop here. Hope you smiled.
