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When Mike was 2, he wanted a sandbox, and his father said:  "There goes the yard.
We'll have kids over here day and night, and they'll throw sand into the
flower beds, and cats will make a mess in it, and it'll kill the grass for sure."

And Mike's mother said, "It'll come back."

When Mike was 5, he wanted a jungle gym set with swings and bars to take him to the summit,
and his father said:  "Good grief, I've seen those things in back yards, and do you know what
they look like?  Mud holes in a pasture.  It'll kill the grass."

And Mike's mother said, "It'll come back."

As Mike's daddy was blowing up the plastic swimming pool, he warned:  "You know
what they're going to do to this place?  They're going to condemn it and use it for a missile
site.  They'll track water everywhere and have a million water fights, and you won't be able to
take out the garbage without stepping in mud up to your neck.  When we take this down, we'll
have the only brown lawn on the block."

"It'll come back," Mike's mother said.

When Mike was 12, he volunteered his yard for a campout.  As they hoisted the tents and
drove in the spikes, his father stood at the window and observed, "Why don't I just put the
grass seed out in cereal bowls for the birds and save myself the trouble of spreading it
around?  Those tents and all those big feet are going to trample down every single blade of
grass.  Don't bother to answer.  I know what you're going to say, 'It'll come back.' "


The basketball hoop on the side of the garage attracted more crowds than the Olympics.
And a small patch of lawn that started out with a barren spot the size of a garbage can lid
soon drew to encompass the entire side yard.

Just when it looked as if the new seed might take root, the winter came and the sled runners
beat it into ridges.  Mike's father shook his head and said, "I never asked for much in this
life - only a patch of grass."

And Mike's mother smiled and said, "It'll come back."

This fall, the lawn was beautiful.  It was green and alive and rolled out like a sponge carpet
along the drive where gym shoes had trod ... along the garage where bicycles used to fall ...
and around the flower beds where little boys used to dig with iced-tea spoons.

But Mike's father never saw it.  He anxiously looked beyond the yard and asked with a catch
in his voice, "He will come back, won't he?"
The Green, Green Grass of Home

by Erma Bombeck