Way back when Hubby and I ran neighborhoods with the abandon and surety that comes with youth and knowing you are invincible we had a running joke about grass as in lawns, jeez Remember life was a bit simpler then. We actually went outside to skateboard.
The ramp being conveniently located a few miles from my house meant that we all spent a lot of time walking through neighborhoods. Since we weren't informed enough to talk politics at the ripe old age of 15 and we spent many, many hours cruising the town we would talk about anything. Front lawns were right there. They are diverse some with nice thick grass, while others are weed infested and sport bald patches. There was a house somewhere with green, lush grass that called to me. I proclaimed that the grass looked soft and my feet were tired. We had a seat near a curb and the grass was in fact luxuriously soft and thick. I'm sure I hammed it up a bit then we moved on. But, the tradition had begun. When boredom hit, or a walk brought us through new neighborhoods, we would rate the lawns with me running ahead to touch the grass for the feel-it test.
Fast forward too many years to count and we live in Sunnyville. The grass here is what Northerners would attack with hands or weed killer. It is infested with bugs of every size and shape. Not where you want to lie back and look up at the sky. But our children seem to have the need for "soft grass" embedded in their genes. 
