When Lame Excuses Are Handed To Me On A Silver Platter

Dear Neighborhood Children (including my own),

I'm not sure what kind of magnet my mower has in it that makes all 6 of you cluster in the exact small area I'm mowing, no matter how many times I tell you to move to a safer place. And I'm thrilled that my children told you the "signal" to get me to turn the mower off so that you can tell me something in an emergency. I'm not exactly sure how "Can we play in your house?", "Why does J make you do all the mowing?", and "My foot is starting to hurt" constitute emergencies, however, I am grateful that you got me so frustrated after turning the mower off at least 6 times in 30 minutes that I gave up. Because I didn't want to mow. And it's kind of hot today. And I have lots of other things to do. So, thank you. Any time someone wants to hand me a ready-made excuse to procrastinate, I'm gonna take it.

Best Regards,

The Meanest Mild Mannered Librarian Ever