So, many of you may know that I am not exceptionally fond of children. I make exceptions for the well-behaved and/or exceptionally cute children of my friends, but I’m not a kid-person.
On my block, there is a house full of small children. Since I have never asked them for an illustrated family branch (not sure they will qualify for a whole tree), I’m not sure of the relationship of all the children, but one sometimes gets the impression that if there aren’t any sister-aunts in the family, it’s just a matter of time.
These children (for lack of a better word) spend a great majority of the time they aren’t in school riding their bikes up & down the block & talking (for lack of a better word) to everyone they run into (which sometimes is literally).
The one child, we shall call him Dennis, is the most annoying friendly. On weekends if the architect & I are working outside, he will show up every 5-10 minutes and say, “Whatcha doin?” (In fact, those are the only words I really understand from him – he has no teeth & a serious case of mush-mouth.)
It doesn’t matter what you tell him, 5 minutes later he’s back, “Whatcha doin?”
So, last weekend, I was digging holes. And in the holes, I was placing big black plastic pots. (Later, in the pots, I put bamboo, but first, just pots.)
So, Dennis & his cousin/sister (not sure, could be both) showed up & asked, “Whatcha doin?”
Dennis & c/s: Whatcha digging?
The architect: Dirt.
Dennis & c/s: Whatcha plantin?
*And this is where I got a little evil*
C/S: You can’t plant buckets.
Me: Why not? Where do you think they come from?
There was a little back & forth, but in the end, Dennis & C/S went away from the conversation really excited for next spring when the baby buckets start to sprout. Dennis was even trying to talk a more doubtful C/S into the idea, claiming he’d seen a bucket garden before.
Now part of me kind of wants to take some of my little black plastic start pots (the kind that baby tomatoes come in) and bury them in the dirt, just a little bit sticking out.
The other part of me feels really bad that I lied to impressionable youngsters who believed me because I’m adult.
I’m not sure which part is going to win. Perhaps I have taught them a valuable life lesson about not trusting just anyone, no matter how earnest they seem.
Perhaps I’m just going straight to hell.
Sorry ’bout the delayed brew review. I have all the pics, but left my notes at home! Tomorrow, for sure!