"Gone Fishin"

It was my third year of trying to create the perfect lawn.
     
I was doing quite well this summer.  I'd reseeded the bare spots from winter's ravages.  I'd found just the right grass seed for our soil conditions.  I'd created a sprinkler system that worked well for both the lawn and for entertaining my four children.
     
All was going well, until one day I noticed several sprouting dandelions.  No problem, I thought.  I hurried to the store and bought an herbicide.  I figured that by the next weekend, I'd have those yellow devils whipped.
     
But when I got home, I took a closer look at the instructions.  Reading the cautionary statements made me shudder; we live in a rural area with a nearby pond and have cats and dogs and children.  I didn't want to inflict toxic chemicals on any of them.  So I made the mixture weaker than the directions called for.  Weak and ineffective: By the next weekend, those tough little dandelions didn't have so much as a withered leaf.
     
I had promised my four-year old daughter Kayla we'd go fishing on Saturday.  Kayla loves to fish and is very good at it.  But when Saturday arrived, I found the little yellow splotches in my lawn had multiplied.
     
I'll have to deal with the dandelions before we go fishing, I told myself.  The lawn is less than half an acre; how long can it take?
     
With screwdriver and garbage sack in hand, I attacked the pesky weeds.
     
"Pickin' flowers, Daddy?" Kayla asked.
     
"Yes, dear," I said, digging furiously at a tough root.
     
"I'll help," she offered.  "I'll give some to Mommy."
     
"Go ahead, sweetie," I answered.  "There's plenty."
     
An hour passed, and the yellow splotches still remained.
     
"You said we's going fishin' today," Kayla complained.
     
"Yes, I know, dear," I said.  "Just a little more flower picking, okay?"
     
"I'll get the fish poles," Kayla announced.
     
I labored on, prying up one stubborn root after another.
     
"I found some worms under a rock, Daddy," Kayla piped up.  "I put them in a cup.  Are you ready?"
     
"Almost, honey."
     
More minutes dragged by.
     
"You picked 'nough flowers, Daddy," Kayla insisted impatiently.
     
"Okay, honey, just a few more," I promised.  But I couldn't stop.  The compulsion to finish the job was overwhelming.
     
A few minutes later, a tap came on my shoulder.
     
"Make a wish, Daddy!" Kayla chirped.
     
As I turned, Kayla took a big breath, puffed, and sent a thousand baby dandelion seeds into the air.
     
I picked her up and kissed her, and we headed for the fish pond.