Saturday, April 25, 2009

The Day John Planted a Garden

This morning I gave Ben some shorts to put on. He looked at them and said indignantly, "These are baby pants." It has been so long since it has been this warm outside that my little man has forgotten what shorts are.

John took advantage of the lovely weather and started our vegetable garden. Or perhaps I should say his vegetable garden, since he did not buy any of the vegetables I specifically requested, namely peppers. He does not like peppers. They make his insides feel funny.

To be fair, he did all the work today tilling and planting while I came by occasionally and made encouraging comments like, "Hey baby, you and that hoe look hot together!" I don't know anything about gardening. I can't even take care of a houseplant. They wither if I put them in the sun and perish if I keep them in the shade. If successful care of plants was a prerequisite for having children, I would living in a studio apartment in the city with no plants, no children, and no multi-colored goldfish crackers in my cupboards. However, if my clematis had howled when thirsty, I probably wouldn't have forgotten to water it. If I neglect to water Daniel, for instance, he reminds me by screaming and chucking his sippy cup at my head. (His accuracy is frightening.) So it's not really my fault at all that my houseplants have languished under my care; it was their fault for being passive-aggressive.

I'm a bit excited about having fresh cherry tomatoes and swiss chard and green beans to eat straight out of my very own garden. (Even though it lacks peppers, it's really only "John's" garden in theory. Most things we possess are "John's" in theory. The garden, the house, and most everything else are mine, the wife's, because that's the way a good marriage works. Ask any female.)

I have one concern about the garden, and it regards the bunny rabbit that likes to squeeze through our fence and into our yard, though it is a rather plump bunny and I'm not sure HOW exactly it squeezes its girth through our fence. My concern is that it will feel obligated as a bunny to eat our veggies and that John will be tempted to... I can't even write it, it is too horrible to put down.

Did I mention John planted radishes in my garden? It's like he's begging Peter Cottontail to nibble away. Just begging. I can feel a confrontation brewing, and I don't like it one bit.

Ella and Daniel love the bunny, by the way. They stand at the sliding glass door and bounce up and down and squeal just like John does on Christmas morning. So this spring, I hope we can all find a way to live in harmony: me, John, the bunny, and our vegetable plants. I'll keep you updated.

Oh yeah... I changed my font. After all that hemming and hawing- I like the default font "font" because it's a default font and I don't have to actively click on a different font, which suits me because I am by nature an extremely lazy individual.

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