Men, their toys, and a little something orange

Now, there was a new attitude, a fresh wind that blew.  And it smelled like glee.  Like boyish delight, the kind that only a vehicle with a fast engine and a gas tank can evoke in the male species. “Men and their toys,” I sighed to my friends.  “Give ‘em a new mower, and it’s Christmas in the back 40.  A new purse is less expensive, and you can hang it on your arm and match your shoes all at the same time.  Just sayin.’” A cousin, male, was the first to weigh in.  “Yeah, but it doesn’t cut the grass that well unless, of course, you can spin it fast enough.” “I hear you,” a friend said.  “You can keep your Chapstick in a purse.  Where does one keep it on a mower?” “You can hardly carry money in a mower for things like groceries.  Or shoes,” said another friend, clearly understanding the order of things. Then a white-haired woman, full of wisdom, spoke up, stating that in her opinion, a lawnmower wasn’t worth its salt unless it had a cup holder.  For drinks.  Which naturally required what?  Why, the change one kept in one’s purse.  Naturally.  Then another male cousin chimed in.  “If you get the right mower, it comes with a storage compartment, a cup holder, and a trailer for the groceries.” Unable to resist, I added, “And if it would be any better, it would come with a matching purse.”  He retired in disgust, and after a couple more downturns and counter arguments on the merits of engines versus handbags, we brought it in for a landing.  And that’s when I posted the pictures. Yes, a fresh wind is blowing here, a virtual hurricane of jubilation.  For the boys, it’s their reassignment from the bulk of the mowing.  Father, for now, will be the sole operator of the Wondrous Machine. This one, he says most grimly, will not be used as a getaway vehicle.  It will not whip in circles around the barn or turn frenzied loop-de-loops around the rhubarb and through the garden as Someone Bigger gives chase on foot.  Conversely, it will not be used in the pursuit of younger siblings as its predecessor was. However.  This one won’t hear its owner practicing his “roller coaster screams” just in time for summer camp.  This is likely because he’s too old for camp and because he refuses to have his feet flung above his head on purpose, muttering something like, “It’s just not natural.” For now, he’s too busy smiling broadly as he sails along, turning on a dime, cold drink tucked in the cup holder.  What a happy attitude he has.  Until, I suspect, he runs out of grass and starts whimpering instead.   FacebookTwitterGoogle+DiggPinterestBlogger That sporty mower to the right?  That’s The Mister’s ride.  And those smaller wheels to the left?  Well, those belong to Little Schrock.  When Daddy’s mowing on his big, orange mower, Little and his little, yellow Hummer follow him (at a safe distance, of course) all over the property.  Back and forth, back and forth, back and…you know.  So much happiness out there in my yard.