Excitement in many guises

My son (the extrauterine one) loves backhoes. He has for years. His favorite color is yellow because Scoop is yellow.
So yesterday morning, when one pulled up in front of our house, it was officially A Great Day. Then it became a Deliriously Happy Day when said backhoe went to work a mere two doors south, easily visible from our largest window in the house. Large blue Water Department trucks accompanied the backhoe, but no matter.
I took them over to watch more closely, as I have done with heavy equipment before. I learned our neighbor was having sewer trouble--tree roots. Ah, we know that song.

One of the three gentlemen came past us; he was wearing a blue shirt. I explained The Boy wants to grow up and drive a backhoe. He shook his head discouragingly and his words were concise: "Stay in school." I said, "It's that or drive the space shuttle." He laughed and advised the latter.
Some digging, some testing with tools, the blue-shirted man came over again.
"Arer they all three yours?"
"Yep," I said with a smile. "And we've got a baby brother coming at Christmastime."
"Wow! Busy!" he replied.
"Well, I just find my husband irresistible." I smiled. "And what will I have in thirty years?"
"Peace of mind?" he guessed.
It was a series of errors for these men. They worked for two hours, tore up three slabs of sidewalk, and couldn't find the sewer line. They had to take a break for more equipment to arrive, which enabled them to discover the line was two slabs south.
While they were waiting, he came by again. "So are you going to homeschool them?"
I was surprised that he would guess. "We already are."
"I don't blame you. More one-on-one time with your kids."

A bit later, when his boss was there, he pointed over to us. "Look! Homeschool!" he shouted in a tone that implied vindication, not zoo animals. His boss looked over. "That's so much better for the kids. Individual instead of one of thirty-five. It makes so much sense."
[Side note: I've heard of anti-homeschoolers, but I don't think I've ever met any. At least, none opinionated enough to shoot their mouth off. Maybe they're like unicorns. Or Bigfoot.]

So they finally got digging with the backhoe in the right spot. A few minutes of this and there was a sudden loud hissing from the hole. I saw what could have been steam; I thought maybe the sewer line. I waited for the smell to hit.
I was wrong. "Get your kids out of here!" hollered Mr. Blue Shirt.

It was the gas line. To be continued...
(Nobody got hurt, just so you know that much.)