So yesterday afternoon Ben let both dogs out. Wild and free they went carousing through the neighborhood. Only at this time of day, there were plenty of neighbors around to point and hollar. So I left Max and Milo with one neighbor and grabbed Ben and we hurried off in the direction of the pointing. Barefoot. (Hey, it's SUMMER, okay?)
Ben did great till we hit the blacktop because he has soft little preschooler feet. So I taught him to stick to the grass and we hurried on calling for the dogs. Finally another neighbor caught up with us and said that the first one had it wrong, they'd been heading back to the house (not away from it) and the dogs were back in the house.
Hokay. So there wasn't any shortcut back to the house from that place -- we finished going around the block. Problem was, we got to a couple of lawns were the owners were at peace with their weeds. One of these weeds is dry and prickly this time of year. Because I have, as Chris says, "Becky" feet, this wasn't a HUGE problem for me, but it was for Ben. "OUCH! OUCH!"
So I picked up my 42 lb preschooler and carried him across the lawn. I'll have to paraphrase this some as when I was writing this my mind went completely blank and I lost his exact wording. This is something close to it (and NOT the words of a kid with speech issues).
"I'm sorry, Mommy," he said in a voice full of despair.
"What for?" I asked with some surprise.
"I'm supposed to carry YOU over the grass. I want to be YOUR hero."