I grew up like. Around chop shops and construction zones. My mom was a nurse and my dad a contractor and they couldn’t afford daycare so naturally I went to work with dad. I learned how to ride a bike inside of a partially built Dollar General. I learned how to drive a back-hoe when I was 5. I went deer hunting with dad as soon as I could walk, maybe even earlier. I’m glad I grew up with scraped knees and mud under my fingernails. Like, kids need that. At least a little bit. I’m not telling you to let your toddler loose on a construction site BUT it might just give them some character
Also… it takes a village. I couldn’t tell you how many times grown adults who I didn’t even know would stop me from being a little shit because everyone on the job site knew I was Lon’s kid. And it was so wholesome, looking back, that these greasy, rough, underbelly-of-society type men saw a little kid and was like “aw geez I guess I’m her dad now”
