Grunt work difficult to disguise as fun landscaping

After pushing five heaping wheelbarrows loads of tulip poplar sticks that the trees had recklessly hurled across the yard during the latest windstorms, my 16-year old daughter said, “Mom, I’m your grunt, aren’t I?”

As I continued to pick up sticks, I thought about responding like one of those nurturing and teaching mother-of-the-year types that I often read about. I imagined myself saying: “Phoebe, I would never ask you to do anything that I wouldn’t do myself, darling.”

Or: “Phoebe dear, don’t you think that since we were blessed with this yard, we should also have the blessing and responsibility to care for it?”

Reality set back in when I abruptly remembered I have never been in the running for a mother-of-the-year award and that she was, well, she was 16; so I simply responded, “Yep.”

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