Don Vandervort, Head Homeboy, has written more than 30 DIY home improvement books, been a segment host on HGTV, served as MSN.com's home improvement expert and written countless magazine articles.
Nathan, my 8-year old, loves to weed whack. All the things I hate about the weed whacker, he loves. He’s eight. He loves to push the gas through. Hold the weed whacker. Whip the starter pull back to start it. Loves the word “choke.” Loves the incredibly loud and annoying noise it makes. Would love to have that noise as background music in the house at all times. He loves the destruction. Point the weed whacker down and watch the grass go flying. Dirt flies too. Look at the cool hard string that shoots out and potentially takes off your toes. Check out the danger, and he’s in control of it.
The first time he weed whacked, I hovered, held the pole with him, knew this was certain death. Goggled, gloved, booted: Things were going to get destroyed. His small (not so small) limbs, fence posts, lizards. But he wore me down. He wanted to weed whack every DAY. Please, he begs after school. I did my homework. Can’t I weed whack?
We did need a lot of weeding done. I neglected it because it was so awful, hot, and loud. Now I’ve paired up the two loudest things in my life: eight year old boy, gas powered gardening equipment. I pay him two dollars to do the whole yard. It’s freed me up to do more glorious things like picking up dog poop.
Sometimes it’s hard to see that the perfect man for the job is right there, wiggling in front of you. All toes still, happily intact.
