My Government Mule

JT, now 13 and sporting a height of 5 foot 6, the makings of a mustache, and a deepening voice, still moves around the house as if he is 50 pounds of 6 years old.  That he is not his mama's little boy anymore means that each morning when he rolls out of bed (or otherwise navigates the house), it sounds like a large wild animal has thundered across the floor.  

He eats like a beast uncertain of his next meal.  It's not unusual for JT to sit down for breakfast and then grill me about what I'll be serving for his lunch and supper.  He's big, he's loud, and he's strong.

Time to put him to work.

At some point in the last year, I realized that living with a son who is taller and stronger than me can be quite handy.  Case in point: mulch day in the garden.  I can certainly load up and carry the bags of mulch needed to keep the garden in good shape for the hot summer.  But why should I when I have my own beast of burden in house?

I am not sure where I first heard the phrase, "working like a government mule" but I am sure that I like it.  The boy made quick work of all the bags of mulch, allowing me to preserve my energy for spreading it around.

But that's a story for another day.