We hit a very important milestone this week. Maria and I moved into a new and exciting economic strata. No, we don’t have a chauffeur. And I didn’t get the golf cart I have always wanted to tool around in. We didn’t even get a high-definition TV.

We have someone who will mow our lawn for us.

If you have ever seen our lawn, this development is a little laughable. We are envious of people living in townhouses for the expansive acreage that comes with their house.

I could probably mow my entire lawn in less time than it takes you to read this column.

But I shouldn’t have to work that hard, should I? We don’t have a fancy-schmancy gas-powered lawn mower. We have one of those old-school reel mowers that you actually have to push yourself.

I have labored for more than 10 years actually pushing that thing up and back, up and back. Never mind that we have removed some of the mowing area over the years and that Maria has done most of the mowing since she started staying home with Bridget.

I needed a break.

This day has been a long time coming. I have always hated yard work because it was a regular Saturday routine around the house growing up.

I started off picking up the piles of grass after one of my brothers mowed the lawn. Then I graduated to mowing.

The problem was, I didn’t have anyone to sweep and pick up for me since I was the youngest. I had to do the whole shebang.

I did have the luxury of a mower with a bag attachment that none of my brothers had, but I still had to empty it myself. Of course my siblings will tell me how I got off easy, but I know otherwise.

I eventually graduated from lawn work in my late teens and never looked back. I figured I had it made.

Then I had to go and get married. She’s as demanding as my parents were, but I have more primitive equipment at my disposal.

At least she let me get a leaf vac, which is almost necessary considering the trees around our house. I can get down with sucking up huge piles of leaves because it keeps me from having flashbacks to raking and picking up huge piles.

So I played the good husband role and mowed the lawn as much as I could stand. Every once in a while I would mention that we could find a neighborhood kid to mow for us. Every time, she told me it wasn’t worth it.

Until this spring. I don’t know what happened, but she checked with a kid up the street and he agreed to mow for us. I almost did a cartwheel on the lawn while she negotiated terms with him this week.

I have finally arrived. I will never dirty my hands with grass again. I feel like I have made my first million.

Too bad I know where I’ll end up spending it. I hope that kid ends up gives some of it to someone else to mow his lawn when he grows up.