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Flotsam and Jetsam
My six-year-old daughter has been having a delightful time of late. She and her mom are gardeners, and as such they’ve been spinning through a book called “Know Your Poisonous Plants.”
My daughter loves this book, and the many revelations within. She keeps reading it, and then running to me happily to declare:
- “Daddy! Tomatoes are poisonous!”
- “Daddy, look! Asparagus is poisonous! See this? This means … (dramatic pause) … DEATH!”
All of these announcements come with the bright smile of a tiny girly lawyer who thinks she’s finally come up wth the ultimate answer to her parents’ totalitarian mandates that she eat vegetables.
I generally spend a few moments basking in pride at how well my little girl can read, then crush her little dreams of conquest by pointing out that a complete reading of the text indicates that only parts of these plants are poisonous, not the parts we put on her plate.
To her credit, selfish motivation does not always play a role in her grand announcements. Today, she informed me of the deadly nature of elderberries — one of my favorite things — and of rhubarb — one of her mom’s favorite things. In these cases, she’s just looking out for us. She’s a good little girl … and her sweet corn is awesome this year!
Not poisonous, either. At least, she hasn’t told us about any poison …
– Steve