Please view the following series of photos taken by the author on Friday, July 01, 2011.
Now, please allow me to narrate what you've seen. That is my husband's Craftsman lawn tractor. He purchased that tractor long ago, when we still lived in a mobile home on something like 1/8 of an acre. His rationale was that he needed to mow the lot that we currently live on, years before we started building our house. That Craftsman tractor has been accessorized with completely necessary items such as a brush guard, wheel weights, and some kind of thing-a-ma-jig (that is of course the technical term for it) that allows him to hook up a trailer, it moves up and down, has a handle-I don't really know what it is though I want to say a hitch. Hubs loves that tractor. It's like a brand new one. In fact, the brother-in-law thought it was new, not something like 8 years old.
Now, sitting on top of that tractor are my 2 year old and 4 year old. They have not been accessorized with anything other than some dental work-in fact, the baby had just had some done on this day. If you were able to flip through these photos quickly, you would see that the tractor is moving across my lawn. Since you can't move them quickly, I tried to get the tree in my front yard in the pictures as a point of reference.
Also in this picture you see the hubs. Please notice that he is nowhere near the tractor as it is moving across the lawn. And please ignore the muscle shirt that he is wearing, the one that you could read the newspaper through if you had to. In a couple of the pictures, you will also find our dog Peanut. She seems to always be where there are people, especially little people. And she likes to lick and jump. I hate that in a dog.
Now, if you're asking yourself if the boys are literally driving the tractor or is this a very intricate and time-consuming gag, the answers are yes and no. Well, more like kind of yes and no. The boys are driving the tractor. Well, the 2 year old isn't. We would never be so negligent as to allow a 2 year old to drive a tractor. Shoot, when his daddy lets him drive the car he just barely keeps it on the road. (I'm laughing at this joke but it is completely true.) When I say "We" of course I mean him, the hubs, my baby daddy. I would choose not to allow my children to drive anything that is operated my anything more powerful than a Power Wheels battery.
Back to the question. We would never allow Baby BK to drive a tractor. That would be ridiculous. He is there to hold the seat down because his brother's little scrawny carcass isn't heavy enough. That is why the answer was kind of yes. He is not driving but his brother very much is. And no, this is not some kind of intricate and time-consuming gag. I would never put that much effort into anything that doesn't result in at least a dozen cupcakes. You see, Daddy thinks it's a good idea to turn the tractor on, put it in the lowest gear possible, engage the blades, and set the twerps to mowing a swath through the vacant lot next to ours. Apparently they tromp through there pretty regularly and like to keep a path mowed. Big BK crosses our yard, mows his path, drives the tractor back through the yard and into the garage. All. By. Himself. And Baby BK is just along for the ride. And to hold the seat down.
I am going to add that while this is going on, I'm inside, pretending I don't know anything about it. Occasionally though, like on this day, the hubs comes and gets me because the two punks are just too cute not to watch. And he's taped it, so he can show it to everyone. And so that there will be physical evidence for the prosecution to use against us when the time comes. I mean, of course, IF the time should come. It's not like this is a bad idea or anything, right. Nothing bad could happen. I mean, he is almost 5 years old now. It's about time he starts pulling his weight around here, all 36 pounds, and I'm having no luck getting him to pick up his dirty underpants or throw his empties in the trash. (Juice boxes, of course.)
And this is precisely the reason that my baby is obsessed with mowing grass. Engage him in conversation. He will tell you that "Daddy mow grass."; "Mommaw mow grass."; "Poppaw ride four wheeler." (just to mix it up a little and keep you on you toes); "Ben mow grass."; "Me mow grass." You may or may not be able to understand him but he will talk a lot about mowing grass. Go ahead, ask him who cuts grass. I dare you.
While I was outside taking pictures of this atrocious act of gross parental negligence, I also took pictures of my side of the porch. Yeah, I said my side of the porch. It is in fact a side of the porch dedicated solely to me. I made a rule a long time ago that no one that was driven by testosterone would be allowed past the chimney, which divides my part of the porch from the rest. I made the rule and his has been ignored approximately 3876 times. Of course that is an estimation on my part as I have no intention of counting the number of times rules are broken at our house. Counting the times I alone break the rules would consume all of my time and I'd never get any laundry done.
I would really love, beyond anything else, to get one of those awesome outdoor sectionals for this little corner. That however is not going to happen anytime in the near future unless I can find an outstanding deal on one. I just happened to have an outdoor dining set in the basement, being ignored and gathering dust because our deck is in shambles and we have no patio. So, I thought, why not use those chairs until I can get what I want. I had everything already in my possession for this except for the outdoor area rug, which I purchased at Walmart.
This is the view from the yard.
And this is what Peanut the dog did to my rug. I guess I was kind of asking for it. I mean, I did put an outdoor rug outdoors on my porch, in an area that the animals rarely populate. And it laid there unobtrusively for a couple of weeks. I'm sure Peanut held out as long as she could. She's a good dog. She would never steal flip flops out the garage and destroy them like her BFF Haley the dog. No, she's a goo dog who just gets a little excited when she sees something new, like a toy that belongs to the neighbor dog or one of the children in the house. Not like that dumb dog Bailey who lays under the porch most of the time and minds his own business. Yep, clearly this was all my fault. When will I learn?
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