Grandson in the mountain

We go up to the mountain, but it was mostly to check around and make sure everything is okay, and little of this and that.

Yesterday was Grandson first day to fully utilize his expertise of being a boy. And of course, he had to grease his little elbows and help with farming every now and then.

Since I was the cook, I leisurely took his little wagon and went to the wooded area. On the way there, his wagon handle fell off. There I was... walking with just the handle-NO WAGON. I'll be darn I thought, and temporarily fixed it. I gathered the wood and day dreamed a little bit, and headed back. Midway back, the handle fell off again, and I looked towards Grandson, who was helping with planting with his Great Paternal Grandma. He looked straight back at me with his handle. I'm talking, they were about 50 yards away, and I can feel his eyeballs penetrating my brain with "WHAT??"

So, when he got back to me he put his hands on his hips and says "OK!" sternly "What happened?", I actually felt quilty. I told him, and his Grandpa heard us and he fixed it.

Grandbaby, he loves the mountain. He played and played, talked to the neighbors (our relatives), explored.. it was quite a day for him. On the way home, his eyes were red and he tipped over.