It was high time the almost-15-year-old in our house took time out of her busy, busy day to help us mow the lawn. Excuses for her non-mowing past have been many, ranging from an extreme, life-threatening grass allergy to refusal to mow in solidarity for the people of the Sahara, who are forced to live a life with no grass at all. (I’m telling you, this girl will come up with any excuse whatsoever. She is gooooood.)
But yesterday, I found her weakness. It appeared in the form of a Bob Marley t-shirt. This t-shirt was an oasis in the middle of a busy walmart, and it beckoned to her. It called her name. “Micaela…Micaela…” But nay, nay. I refused to purchase the shirt unless I received an immediate agreement from her to overcome all of her anti-mowing excuses and help with the menial tasks of yard work that awaited us when we got home. Begrudgingly, she agreed. She really wanted Bob Marley.
So we checked out and made our way merrily to our house. Oh, and she tried to get out of mowing. It was too cold! And it was too windy! And she had homework, and did I really want her to flunk her freshman year of high school just so she could mow the grass IN THE COLD? “Why yes, now that you mention it, yes I believe I do,” I answered with an evil mom-grin.
So out came the mower. And after a short lesson on how to actually turn the mower on and what not to run over (like bicycles and trash and her feet), she was on her way.
And about 15 minutes later, I looked up from the flower bed I was lining to notice that apparently while I was busy keeping weeds at bay, a giant flock of aliens had landed in our yard and carved out the most brilliantly intricate crop circles I had ever seen.
Ok, I haven’t seen all that many crop circles in person. None, really. But I’m pretty sure I witnessed some in our yard yesterday. The teenager, the one who is supposed to start DRIVING soon (albeit with an adult in the car), does not seem to be able to WALK in a straight line. While our neighbors’ lawns were looking neatly manicured with nice, straight lines, ours looked like something of a cross between a corn maze and a semi-intricate crop circle. The little green men from Mars would be proud.
See our new lawn look below. I’m pretty sure Micaela has a future as a greenscaper for a prestigious golf course somewhere…or as a groundskeeper for an upscale crack-production neighborhood.
And if you are planning on being on the road in the next year or so, you might want to go ahead and get yourself a prescription for some anti-anxiety meds. She is about to be unleashed upon ye!
And for the record, if this was an attempt at getting herself fired from her newly acquired mowing job, it did not work. She is still gainfully employed as the mower. We may forever be known as the house with the crookedest mowing lines in the neighborhood, but let it be known that they were done by the teenager with the self-diagnosed deadly grass allergy.