This past weekend my husband was lamenting the state of the front lawn. With the constant rain and the breaks of sun being filled up with baseball games, it had grown really long. Long as in it looked like we were living on a prarie, not a suburban neighborhood.

So we were having a “discussion” about mowing it. The front lawn is generally believed to me my job. I don’t mind. It is some extra exercise and I can’t hear the kids fighting over the roar of the lawn mower, so I am able to just lalala my way around the front yard.  Except that sometimes I just don’t have time.

My 8 yr old was sitting there listening in and suddenly said, “When will I be old enough to mow the front lawn?” He rested his chin on his hands, elbows on his knees.

I had to laugh. because all of the children have gone through this. They all want to do a chore until they are actually allowed to do it. Then suddenly it is not cool or fun anymore.

“When you are old enough not to want to do it.” I answered.

“I never get to do anything.” he cried.

My husband decided why not let him give mowing the lawn a try.

So I started up the mower and said, “Have at it.”

Each time I glanced up he was running around the lawn. A huge grin on his face.

The lawn, however, looked like a cat after someone tried to shave it with an electric razor. Someone blind.

Patches of grass stood up here and there; long strips of uncut grass made zig zag patterns across the lawn; right in the middle a big circle of foot high unmowed weeds. Clearly 8yr olds are not ready for the front lawn.

He flopped down next to me on the front porch steps, pushed his long blonde hair out of his eyes. “Well, that was easy. And fun. I don’t know why no one wants to do it.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that usually we walk back and forth in straight lines and not run around all willy nilly. But maybe we should. Maybe running around all willy nilly would be a much more fun way to cut the grass.

In the backyard. The neighbors already think we are odd.