My hero
It's been a relatively calm week after all of last week's disasters. Dalt's been gone to A&M fire school all week and my mom's been here since Monday. She's leaving tomorrow morning and Dalt will be back tomorrow afternoon.
It came as a bit of a surprise to me, but the grass in our yard didn't stop growing just because Dalt wasn't here. It still needed to be mowed. And there is a lot of stuff I don't know concerning lawn maintenance. I mean, sure, I help and ride the lawnmower. Woo-hoo, yippee-skippee. But we don't have a garage here, we have a storage shed. The riding lawnmower is stored in the storage shed and has to be backed out down a set of portable ramps. I couldn't even remember how to put the thing in reverse, much less back that sucker down a set of ramps. Plus, it needed gas - I don't know how to do that. Dalt's got 14 different gas cans out there, some mixed with this or that additive for whatever guy reason that defies understanding. The entire storage shed is one big testosterone filled mystery-land to me.
So, the grass still needed to be mowed. And I tried not to panic. And then, just as the situation seemed about as dark as dark could get, I was rescued. By my 12 year-old son.
Joe didn't even blink an eye when I asked if he knew how to put gas in the riding lawnmower. Before I could say "John Deere," he had that sucker gassed up, backed out and ready to go. Not only that, but he also gassed up the push mower and trimmed all the hard to reach places around the house, driveway and ditches that Dalt usually takes care of. And when it was all done, he charged that ramp like a Sherman tank and got the riding lawnmower back into the shed without breaking a sweat. I was so proud.
Joseph Kyle is my baby boy. He's quiet and smart and a good student. He's sensitive, funny and loves video games. But yesterday, for the first time, I saw him as a young man.
It was great.
It came as a bit of a surprise to me, but the grass in our yard didn't stop growing just because Dalt wasn't here. It still needed to be mowed. And there is a lot of stuff I don't know concerning lawn maintenance. I mean, sure, I help and ride the lawnmower. Woo-hoo, yippee-skippee. But we don't have a garage here, we have a storage shed. The riding lawnmower is stored in the storage shed and has to be backed out down a set of portable ramps. I couldn't even remember how to put the thing in reverse, much less back that sucker down a set of ramps. Plus, it needed gas - I don't know how to do that. Dalt's got 14 different gas cans out there, some mixed with this or that additive for whatever guy reason that defies understanding. The entire storage shed is one big testosterone filled mystery-land to me.
So, the grass still needed to be mowed. And I tried not to panic. And then, just as the situation seemed about as dark as dark could get, I was rescued. By my 12 year-old son.
Joe didn't even blink an eye when I asked if he knew how to put gas in the riding lawnmower. Before I could say "John Deere," he had that sucker gassed up, backed out and ready to go. Not only that, but he also gassed up the push mower and trimmed all the hard to reach places around the house, driveway and ditches that Dalt usually takes care of. And when it was all done, he charged that ramp like a Sherman tank and got the riding lawnmower back into the shed without breaking a sweat. I was so proud.
Joseph Kyle is my baby boy. He's quiet and smart and a good student. He's sensitive, funny and loves video games. But yesterday, for the first time, I saw him as a young man.
It was great.
posted by Cas at 11:08 PM
1 Comments:
Haha I know how u feel. Imagine my surprise when the trash didn't take itself out twice a week once zach left :p
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