Gardening

I think that Margaret’s a little unclear on how the whole gardening thing works.*

I mean, given the number of pictures of flowers that she’s picked for Ellie, it’s clear that she’s a menace to things that grow out of the ground and dare to be pretty.  But I was trying to explain to her yesterday how flowers grow, and she went and picked a flowering branch off the hedge, and tried to plant it in the ground.

I haven’t checked today, but I bet it didn’t take.***

She does, however, get picking up sticks and putting them in big paper bags, because that’s what Granddad does.

Of course, then she decided to skip planting the flowers, and just get rid of them right away.

Efficiency.  That’s my kid. 

*And honestly, if that’s the case, she comes by it honestly, because I kill plants – accidentally – with astonishing regularity.  When Leo’s parents go out of town and leave us in charge of their pets/garden/house, I’m pretty sure they say goodbye to the garden before they go, because counting on me watering the things the right amount of time is sketchy at best.**

**Though I haven’t killed anything in a while, so perhaps being responsible for human beings is helping me remember that things need nourishment. 

*** Isn’t it going to be embarrassing for me if it does?  Also, though this is the third footnote, the second one may technically come later, because it’s a footnote on a footnote.  Does anyone know the rules to this?  And how am I going to succeed as a copy editor**** if I don’t know?

****A lifelong dream, by the way.  It’s like ironing: something is wrong, and one can fix it quickly