My other darling boy

is a hard worker.

“Lincoln,” I say, “you are a hard worker, just like your Daddy and your Grandpa Louis.  You like to work, and you like to get it done.”

 

On this particular day, he worked and he worked and he worked until he cut not one, but THREE boards in two.  

 

 

Almost got it. . . . . . . if I hold my tongue out in a particularly odd way, I will cut through this board even faster.

Flashback to the 80’s . . . . . . . . .

I wonder if hanging out my tongue like that when I work out would help me run faster, burn more calories, lose more fat.

That is, if I worked out.  Maybe I could just try hanging my tongue out and skip the work-out.  Discreetly, of course.

 

 

 More mouth maneuverings . . . .

Hmmmmm . . . . . . something is not quite right here. . . . . .

 

 

What was it Mama said? . . . . . . . Measure twice, cut once?  . . . . . .No, that can’t be right.  She must have said “Son, just eyball it and make your cut.”

I could truthfully tell my boy “Lincoln, you lack precision in your woodworking skills, just like your Daddy and Grandpa Louis,” but I’m kind of hoping he’ll go one better than his predescessors on that one.

Last night, Sid told Lincoln that he could come to work with him the next day.  My Lincoln, so eager to pull on his steel-toed work shoes could not wait until 5 am for his Dad to get him out of bed.  He got up at 3:45 am, went downstairs to the schoolroom and did his school.  Then came back upstairs and sat quietly on the top step, 3 feet from our bedroom door. 

After a half hour or so of nearly silent rustlings and body shifting, Sid said, “Lincoln?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not getting up for another 45 minutes.  Would you like to go downstairs and rest on the couch while you wait for me?”

“Well .  . . . . . . . . .okay.”  I could feel the inpatient energy vibrating through his little body, but he didn’t complain.

That boy sure likes to work.

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