I’d never made a scarecrow until this afternoon.
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Over breakfast on Saturday morning I sprung on the girls (and the Mrs, who quickly gave me one of those raised eyebrows) that on Monday, when the Bear would be off from school and the Mrs. home skipping work for a mental health vacation day, that we could all make a scarecrow together. They were sugar-high Gummi Bear excited, and I joined in the bouncing here and there and everywhere not even thinking about where I’d get stuffing or what clothes we’d use.
The time to keep a promise came this morning. I called around to several places before finally finding a farm selling bales of hay at reasonable prices (would you believe some want $10 for a tiny decorative bale – it’s freakin’ hay, people!). I drove about 40 minutes round trip to secure the goods and returned to smiling kids on the front lawn with old bluejeans and pink long sleeve t-shirts ready to make not-at-all-scarey scarecrow versions of themselves. I ran into the house, rummaged through my drawers, grabbed an old pair of gigantic jeans (hey, I have lost some weight haven’t I?) and a stained, once-favorite red sweatshirt I never wear anymore. I think they were most happy about a scarecrow daddy joining them! I kinda figured they would be.
We had a blast on this 80 degree Autumn day making the least intimidating scarecrows ever, unless my stubble and hippie hair frighten you!
Were you waiting for the moral of the story? Um…don’t break your promises, especially ones made to your kids, even if you have to drive out of your way to buy 5 lbs of hay. There.
