Mowing the Lawn

Dad likes to mow the lawn.  Good sense of accomplishment with little effort (it is a riding lawn mower).  Problem is, I have dogs, big dogs.  This means lots of poop and toys over the yard.  Now like I said, Dad is not a fan of effort.  He would rather just mow over the piles - not acceptable.  Through lots of lecturing and badgering, I now have him accepting the concept of picking up poop. The execution, however, is still a work in progress.  He wanders about like a tipsy chick wanders a dance floor, there is no logic or discernable pattern.  Whole areas are missed but at least there is SOME progress.  Sure, piles are still smashed and flung about but there is a bag of gathered poop.  Unfortunately, this bag is hanging from a branch in the middle of the newly mowed lawn.  Why not toss the bag in the trash bin? "I might have to pick some up later" is Dad's response. Sigh.
Last night there was a new twist to the battle.  Dad's new plan?  Start mowing and when he sees a pile he will stop the mower, get off, go get the pooper scooper and pick up the pile.  Seems like even more effort than just walking around with the scooper before starting the mower but Dad is also not a fan of logical thinking.  I put a stop to that plan and we went off as a team to pick up poop.  Dad started mowing and I went inside.  He then mowed over my new Elderberry plants.