It's no longer cool -- at least in the capital region -- to have the young boy down the street mow your lawn, but I recall fondly my youth in Rodman, earning $20 a week to mow the church and Alice Bibbins. Lincoln gave me about 10 minutes of his time last Sunday before his sister whisked him away for some imaginative play. But I could tell by his ordered rows that he has the lawnmower gene.
Nice! I came home yesterday to find that Matthew (with no prompting from his mother) had mowed our yard. What a pleasant surprise that was.
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