There are three bare patches of grass in my yard. They happen to be under three swings, where my three favorite children lay on their bellies and pretend to fly. They are under the swings where two of them beg to be pushed, and the third, swinging high, will stop and push the other two. They are under the swings where those children twist themselves up so much that their feet don't touch the ground anymore then giggle madly as they untwist and feel so dizzy. They are under the swing where the girl has discovered that she can lay back and put her feet in the air let go with her hands and still swing.
I love those bare patches. I've watched them grow since the swingset was erected just a few months ago. But, what I love most about those patches is that my husband noticed them and didn't grumble about the lack of grass in that section of the yard. In fact, he smiled and said he liked them, without me having said a word about how much I like them.