Mike isn’t around much. So, mostly, our lawn just grows really really long in the summer. Sometimes Mike decides enough is enough and, despite the onset of late evening, heads out to get the rather long job done. Other times, I decide enough is enough and, with Anders napping, Jesse following on my heels with a small riding toy, Penny and the older kids wandering in and out calling about this kid pushing or that cup spilling (necessitating the constant stopping and restarting of the lawn mower), I, in pausing chunks based on what is happening with my six small kids, get the job done.
It won’t be easy. There is plenty of sheer area to mow, plus there are awkward obstacles – trampolines and swing sets, garden boxes and curbed flower beds. But I think he might be up to the task. I didn’t give him much direction. I was going to try to explain how to get around all the obstacles all while keeping some type of pattern to the mowing, but it seemed too exhausting, and I decided to just leave him be and let him slowly figure out his own method – even if it might mean a few patchy spots here and there.
I’m not sure what made me decide my 11 year old was ready to take on lawn mowing. It might have been necessity. It might have been that Mike has been saying I ought to. It might have been that he seems a responsible kid. Or, . . . it might have been that he left me this note by my bedroom door this morning:
Surely any kid who is old enough to leave their mother a note this clever is old enough to mow the lawn.