I have a gravel/dirt driveway that still requires ditching/drainage in the spring. A task I cherish. It harkens me back to my youth. About 6 or 7 years ago, when my boys (aka: “The Men”) were roughly ages 3 & 6 I was putzing around in the garage on a warm April afternoon. The driveway was a muddy mess. I noticed The Men situated in the midst of a particularly deep mud puddle. The youngest had his bike intentionally stuck in the slop – the training wheels holding it stationary as he peddled for all his might. Directly behind him – standing in the spray of the rooster tail – was my oldest boy. His arms were joyously outstretched as though he were being baptisted in Holy Water.
I couldn’t help but exclaim, “Men! What on earth are you doing?”
“Oh, no, Dad,” my eldest replied, “we’re playing Dirty Jobs.”
“Carry on,” was my response.