When I was a child (no, correction…when I was a physical child, since my maturity age is still firmly in the teens), I often wondered why my father spent so much time outside working in the yard. Clearly work had to be done, but he seemed to relish the time it took him to go outside and do the lawn, rake the leaves, etc.
Now I know.
This weekend my daughter was doing her best to anger her mother, who by some weird coincidence, is also my wife. My daughter was acting stupidly, which is normally my territory but I let her give it a go, and I saw that little twitch on my wife’s face that indicated the volcano was about to blow.
So here I am, outside, listening to a podcast on my IPhone. Now I understand what my pappy saw in yard work…
It’s base in our game of marriage/father tag. Ha, can’t touch me!