Mowing the grass

Little Bro, who I'm afraid is becoming my favorite-largely for his willingness to help, in contrast to his elder brother's resistance to do anything that is not his idea- helped me mow the grass on Saturday.

It's another maintenance item that has fallen off considerably since the boys arrived in our lives. Combined with the twin impediments of rain & sinus infections (for BOTH G. & I now), the result was a veritable jungle of lawn.

Little Bro watched with fascination as I filled the gas tank, checked the oil, & tried to start it.

After calling Greg to start the damn thing (it was clogged from previous mowing adventures), we took off.

He pushed with all his might and I hung off the side of the handle trying to ensure some semblance of a straight line.

Up and down the rows, up and down. We waved at passing cars, smiled at neighbors walking the dogs on the early afternoon warmth and grunted as we swung into the corners.

He bent his head in concentration, pushing with all his might, trusting me to guide the mower.

A simple chore, but based on the smile that split his face as I high-fived him,
a memorable accomplishment.