>Mow

>I made Dave drive me to the library after dinner, after insisting that I wouldn’t ride in the cargo trailer with Jack. When we got there, Dave asked why, exactly, he had to drive me since I am not pain killer free. I didn’t really have a good answer. Maybe over the past week+ I forgot how to drive. Maybe it was that half glass of wine.

Anyway, when we got home, it was pretty close to bedtime, but Dave was weeding, I was filling Dave in on some gossip, Luke was reading, and Jack was hanging off the front door knob yelling, “Mil! Mil! Miiiiiiillllllllll!” I let him into the house and handed him a sippy of milk. He said, “Dink do.”

We went back outside and before you know it, Jack was pointing to the gate to the backyard yelling, “MOW! MOW! MOW! MOW!”

And I said, “Do you want your milk? It’s right over there. There’s your milk!”

And Jack said, “MOW! MOW! MOW! MOW!”

And I said, “You’re milk is right there.”

And Dave said, “He wants to MOW. The lawn.”

Ooooh. So I let him get his John Deere mower from the backyard and then he was happy. It was pretty obvious, but I was really clueless. It must have been that half glass of wine.

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2 thoughts on “>Mow

  1. Laura M

    >Jack would definitely scream 'mow' if he had the misfortune of stepping into our yard and getting lost in the weeds.Think of the joy you robbed people of – wouldn't everybody in Boulder have loved to see you in the Burley?

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