Everyone should know by now that grass does keep growing consistently, as boring as we humans like to think that is.
The ‘I-really-must-mow-the-lawns’ thought is an undisputed joy-killer for me. It can take the shine off the most promising of days. It lurks in the cellar of my mind and threatens to emerge every now and then into my conscious thought like a dull but persistent telemarketer, persuaded of its own urgency. At this point, I pacify the thought with a vague commitment to do it ‘tomorrow’ or better yet ‘over the weekend’, and I often find I can continue to think about less lawn-related subjects for the remainder of the week.
More recently though, my three year old son has taken it upon himself to become a sort of motivational lawn-mowing coach. One offhand statement regarding the state of the lawns from my wife, and an entirely insincere ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’ from me, and I have been committed – body, soul, and spirit – to their imminent manicure, as far as my son is concerned.
The ‘tomorrow afternoon’ in question has come. I pick up my son from his day care and we arrive home.
‘Are you going to mow the lawns Daddy?’
I’m frantically trying to conjure up some other equally worthy and urgent endeavour, but the little taskmaster is not to be deterred.
‘Do it now then, Daddy. Do it now!’
In the face of such persistence and urgency, and with some regret, I find myself caving in to his demands.
‘Ok, yup, I’ll get the lawn mower’.
And the job does get done, but I can’t take a whole lot of credit for having done it.