My mother-in-law’s garden is teeming with big, leafy green life. To my city-bred eye, the only discernable crop is corn, because that’s the tall skinny one. But my wife and The Skinnies spent quite a while picking green beans, potatoes, tomatoes, grapes, beets and onions. We also picked blackberries from the (get this) THORNLESS BLACKBERRY BUSH! I didn’t even know there was such a thing! Then my mother-in-law canned some of them for us in this big, silver, cylindrical pressure cooker that can kill you. She risked her life (and ours) so that we can eat farm-fresh, hand-picked veggies from jar-shaped time capsules this winter.
I spent some time on Saturday morning taking leisurely drives with The Skinnies (one at a time) around the farm on the 4 wheeler. I had to constantly adjust the speed and duration of the rides based upon the unique 4 wheeling preferences of my offspring-cargo. Still, it was deeply delightful to hold each of them on my lap and feel the wind and the sun on our faces. It was on one of the trips down the dirt road on the east end of their acreage that my 4 year old daughter squealed: “Daddy! This is the best day of my whole life!” I’ll not allow such spontaneous outward expressions of joy and contentment in my presence. So, I immediately gunned the throttle which, in turn, elicited a scream that could only have come from a very distraught place in her soul. Kids are so silly.
The wife and I were able to get away for a bike ride on Saturday afternoon. The 50-something Ma-and-Pa-in-law did the same 13 mile trail one evening last week. They told us that it only took them (and I quote) “about an hour”. By mile 6, we determined that they were either lying to us or smoking crack, or both. We had to pedal like Mr. and Mrs. Lance Armstrong for the last few miles just to finish at 1 hour and 15 minutes! I challenged my father-in-law’s estimate (to his face). He just smiled and chortled to himself choosing not to challenge the hypothesis that he’s a crack-smoking liar.
Our extended weekend ended with the convergence of two monumental milestones in the life of my eldest son. On the eve of his first day of first grade, he lost his first tooth. Just a little tug and his upper-right front tooth busted out of his 6 year old grill. I was proud of him because he’s been fairly concerned about the amount of blood and pain that would be involved with the loosing of said tooth for a few weeks. But yesterday afternoon he mustered up his courage and told me he was ready to have me pull out his tooth. The reason? “Tonight’s money night, daddy! If the tooth fairy’s gonna pay me for this, I want it tonight.” Little does he know, the tooth fairy is partial to copper and a little lean in the wallet.
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