Tommy came home from school on Friday with a card in one hand. His other hand was behind his back.
“I have a Mother’s Day present for you,” Tommy said proudly. He handed over the card. And then he pulled his hand from his back.
“Oh, shit,” I blurted when I saw it was a plant. But then I quickly corrected myself, “It’s BEAUTIFUL!”
Tom grinned. “I know. Don’t kill it.”
Ugh. See, I’m notorious for killing plants. I can’t help it. They don’t like me.
Remember that plant that Tommy brought home a few weeks ago? It’s still alive. Barely. I want to get it outside but it’s been cold. Tommy checks on it daily and tells me that it looks sick. Then he gives me the stink eye.
“I’ll...try not kill it,” I promised, taking the plant. A few sprouts were sticking up. “What...kind of plant is this?”
I figured Tommy would shrug and be all, “Who knows?” But he said, “Johnny Jump Ups.”
Huh? There’s seriously a plant called a Johnny Jump Up? Who is in charge of naming these things?
“Don’t kill it,” Tommy repeated.
His other presents to me were sweet. See:
(And yes, he forgot the word day. He told me to just pretend that it's there.)
For Mother's Day, my husband gave me a card with writing in it. It’s a running joke between us. See, he feels he doesn’t have to write in the card because the card already says what he wants to say. I say that you have to write in the card to make it personal. (Seriously, when we were dating in high school he’d hand over blank cards and I’d be all, “Erm, where’s your writing?” and he’d tap the card and say, “The card says how I feel.”)
I’m getting an iPod Touch as my gift since I keep trying to mess with his.
For Natalie's gift, she drew me a picture and instead of peeing on the carpet like usual, she peed on the kitchen floor for easier clean up. (We’re potty training. It is NOT going well.)
Kind of looks like me, no?