The end of an era.

One summer morning, a few years ago, I woke up to the sound of R mowing the lawn. I wanted to make sure little Tito, who was maybe three or four at the time, wasn't outside where he could get hurt. I went into the living room where Beebie and Pie were watching TV. Tito wasn't there.

I looked to see if he was still sleeping. Nope.

Then my Mommy Worst Case Scenario mode kicked in and I ran outside to see if he'd been hit by a truck.

This is what I saw -







It was so precious. He was helping Daddy mow. The broken Bubble Mower that I had gotten at a Yard Sale for 25 cents didn't blow bubbles anymore, but cut the grass just as well as Daddy's mower, in Tito's mind. He was so proud of himself. He was Daddy's Little Man.







That entire summer, and the two subsequent summers, every time Tito heard R's mower start up, he'd gasp, "Oh! I have to go help Dad!!" and beeline it out to the garage where he'd grab his little Bubble Mower and follow along behind as R mowed the entire lawn.

Both Beebie and Pie asked me separately if Tito realized his mower wasn't really doing anything, and I told them not to tell him because he was having fun helping Dad and it made him feel really important. Plus it was just so damn cute.

Last weekend was the first weekend it was warm enough to mow and the grass was high enough to cut, so when R announced that he'd be mowing the grass, Tito ran to the garage to get the supercool Talking Mower that Santa brought him to replace the Bubble Mower.

And I suddenly felt a little bit like telling him, "Tito, Dude... come on... the shit doesn't work, it was cute when you were three, now you're six. It used to be cute, and now it's just kinda pitiful."

I almost stopped him, but I thought I should just let him have his fun. And just then he came running up to me saying, "Hey, MOM!!! This stupid thing doesn't even WORK!! It doesn't even mow the grass at all! It's just a crappy TOY MOWER!!!!"

He stomped away angrily.

And I knew, in that instant, my baby was gone.