As part of an annual Cub Scout service project, the two older boys and Chaz spend the afternoon raking leaves. Money raised will go towards helping support and build schools in Honduras.
The idea of an army of pint-sized soldiers in blue uniforms makes me smile. I wonder how many raked-up piles of leaves proved too tempting to not jump in. At least once.
Or in F.’s case, take a well-deserved union break.
“There was this little old grandma,” I. tells me, back home and shoveling in cookies two at a time. Raking works up an appetite. “She had so many trees,” he manages between bites.
“How many?” I ask. I’m a girl who likes details.
“That’s a lot of trees,” I admit, impressed.
“Her pile of leaves was as big as three cars and as wide as a door,” F. expounds.
“Wow,” I say, wondering what is the proper response to such a thing as fantastical as a 15-foot leaf pile.
The boys each take a last handful of cookies and throw themselves into the cushions of the couch for a well-deserved rest.
Chaz and I continue to talk in the kitchen. He tells me how proud he is of the boys of how hard they worked. He purposely says this loud enough and within earshot and I watch their smiles appear. Who doesn’t want to catch a slip of a “private” conversation on how great you are?