John Deere, the babysitter

Summary haiku:
Sometimes, I wish I'd
used a rubber. So I use
lawnmower nanny.








Far be it from me to judge someone's parenting skills, especially when I have no children of my own. However, today I saw a scene that struck me as, well, pretty fucking ridiculous. And dangerous.

I was out walking the dogs, working on the stuff we learned at dog class this morning. We rounded the corner to a loud motor, a yapping canine and squeals of delight.

I look down the street and see this: A little girl, who couldn't have been older than 9 years old, driving a John Deere riding lawnmower at a speed that I didn't even know lawnmowers would reach. She was weaving in and out of her yard, going down the middle of the street, then pulling a quick u-turn and going back the other direction and over the humps of her yard.

Three smaller kids -- maybe ranging in age from 3 to 5 -- were in a red wagon which was tied with a rope to the back of the lawnmower and careening around behind it. The younger tots were laughing and giggling as the wagon bucked and swayed during its travels over cement surfaces and grassy declines.

As if this isn't disturbing enough a scene, there was a Jack Russell terrier (no leash, of course) rabidly circling the mower, barking its head off. The erratic child driver almost hit the pooch numerous times in the process. She was so close to running him over, I fully expected to see a Jack Russell pancake by the time we reached the end of the block.

And all I could think was WHERE IN THE HELL ARE YOUR PARENTS?