just letters

the one where daddy can’t use lawn tools

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dear silly girl,

i want to go ahead and tell you something about your daddy. he’s a good man, he loves us, and we love him. but when he steps into the yard with the intention of using a lawn tool or machine of any kind, it will either break or he won’t be able to make it start. it happens every.single.time.

he picks up the weed eater.

he pulls the cord and pushes all the buttons and… nothing happens.

expletives fly.

i fuss at him for his language and hope that sweet ms. presley isn’t in her yard listening.

he pulls the cord again, pushes all the buttons and… zilch.

he pulls again and again and again.

expletives everywhere!

i tell him to just forget it. we’ll get used to the weeds, i’m sure of it.

he tells me to call papa and ask him how to start the darn thing.

papa tells him to “choke” it.

daddy doesn’t know what that means.

he asks me how to “choke” it.

i look at him like he has four eyeballs.

this goes on for quite a while.

finally, i notice the sticker on the weed eater handle with the directions. i ask him if he read it.

he says yes, but smiles.

daddy lied.

he did not read the directions sticker.

i tell him that he could not survive without me.

he pulls the cord, pushes all the buttons, and… it starts. magically.

this happens every time he borrows anything from anyone. before we had our own lawn mower, he borrowed two and broke two. he cussed and threw tantrums on both occasions. i prayed that sweet ms. presley wasn’t out in her yard listening. we bought our own lawn mower; he never had another problem.

so the point of this story is that we need to buy our own weed eater.

and please pray for sweet ms. presley.

love forever,

mama

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