My son and I were sitting outside on my front porch, enjoying the warming weather and a beer. We like to do this because, well — we like to.
We watched a semi-truck as it drove by, dragging a flatbed of rolled-up sod.
“That’s the first one I’ve seen this season,” I announced.
My comment met only silence, which is not unusual as my grown child has never been much of a talker. Instead, he took another draw from his beer bottle.
As I took a swig, he turned to me and said, “When I get rich, I want to do the same thing.”
Puzzled, I asked, “What same thing?”
“Have my grass taken out, mowed then brought back,” he said in his best dead-pan voice.
I snotted beer all over the two of us.