So there he is, the 11 year old apprentice, ‘helping’ the widow next door remove a very old aloe cactus plant from along side the fence.
When I say helping, I mean that he is cutting it apart with secateurs and she is inside watching TV. Which is fine.
An occasional gate click as the wheelbarrow carries more debris down the driveway indicates all is well.
Click, click, click.
So when an 11 year old head and shoulders carrying a BIG axe marches past the office window, followed by blonde pigtails of the 6 year old next-door-granddaughter, would my resounding yell of “Mister 11, NO ! ” surprise any mother?
The mumbled sheepish “OK” is probably no surprise either.
Around an hour later, I go an inspect the bush.
The LITTLE axe is firmly implanted in the woody stock of the base. So firmly, that apparently the BIG axe was to free the little axe.
The little axe snuck past the window all by itself, it seems.
That boy is an accident waiting to happen.
