Posted by Grandma on September 12, 2016
The grandchildren have a little battery-operated John Deere Gator. This truck has been a thing of joy for the children. They have raced around the barn, crashed into brick walls and taken down a garden gate. But it seems this little truck is as strong as its namesake. The problem we have now is that the oldest child has outgrown it. She can no longer squeeze her length into the seat and reach the pedals. It was a sad day for her until she discovered that she now reached the pedals of our golf cart. Well, forget the Gator, which only held two anyway, the golf cart held three easily and more since dad had built a wooden bench on the back. All three children would zip around the farm with at least one adult yelling at her to slow down. She became pretty adept at keeping it slow, when she knew we were watching but like all kids, let loose whenever she could.
One day I was at my kitchen sink, which is on the back side of the property, where no one could see. I happened to look out my window and there, at the speed of light, goes the golf cart. The children’s noses were up in the air, their cheeks pulled back by the G force. I saw a red hat bouncing up and down race past in a blur. I could also see an accident about to happen. I raced outside where I stopped her and told her she was going too fast. To her credit she didn’t deny it, just asked. ‘How do you know?’ I answered her truthfully and said what all grandmothers have said: ‘Grandma knows everything.’