earlier this week. Which means we've had eight opportunities to
either walk to or from home and day care. And each time, Jada insists
that I pick her some flowers along the way.
She really likes pretty things, you see, and flowers certainly qualify
as pretty things. But I can't very well pick off the bulbs and buds
of flowers in the gardens of people who have toiled away to bring
those bulbs and buds into existence, and who would probably prefer to
enjoy looking at them rather than at empty stems.
So instead of flowers, I pick weeds. Some are quite pretty; I
particularly like this one that looks like a bouquet of tiny
sunflowers. But they're still weeds. Thankfully, Jada just knows
them as pretty flowers she can hold or give to others.