About to pounce

George gave me a hand (a couple of big green grabbers, to be precise) picking up the leaves this afternoon.

This was his technique for squishing them so we could get more into the bag: a moment of mental preparation, a run-up, and then ... leap.

He stuck at the job pretty well, but I knew he'd had enough when he turned to me and said, "Dad? Did you think this was going to be fun?"