15 April 2008
This morning I noticed that the sunflower I put in The ShortBus's room was wilted and dead, so I explained to him that it was time to throw it away, and get a new one. The poor kid was heartbroken, very sad that his flower had to go into the garbage can. He felt a little better when I replaced it with one of my silk flowers, but you could tell it just wasn't the same.
So, this afternoon when I picked him up from school, I decided we'd hit Home Depot on the way home, and I'd let him pick out a new plant for his room. After he came to terms with the fact that we weren't going to Target for a new toy, he got pretty excited about the idea.
We walked up and down the rows of flowers for a while, discussing the different colors and naming the different varieties, but he was having a difficult time choosing. And really, trying to explain to a 3 1/2 year old that he can't grow an orange tree in his room, even if it "really is" just his size, is difficult. Especially after already telling him he could pick out whatever he wanted.
Then he saw them. The tomato plants. The large pictures of shiny red tomatoes, at exactly his height, rows upon rows of them.
I've never attempted to grow tomatoes in the house before, but I figure it's worth a shot. His room is really sunny... and what's the worst thing that can happen? I have to go buy a container of cherry tomatoes and strategically place them around the pot? I can totally do that.
So, we look carefully, and choose the perfect little plant. The ShortBus picks it up, looks lovingly at it, and says, "I'm going to name him Nero."
"um... Nemo? Like the fish?"
"Like the Roman emperor Nero?"
"okie dokie then. Are you sure you're three?"
"No, silly. I'm three and a HALF."
"oooohhhkie dokie then. Let's go pay for Nero."
Now, I don't know if I should maybe be a little worried. Nero wasn't exactly what you'd call a "nice" guy... it has been said that he actually executed his own mother. Where did my 3 1/2 year old kid hear about him? And, why would he name a tomato plant after him?
There are some questions that one should never ask. Mostly because if you ask them of a pre-schooler, you aren't going to get a logical answer. For now, Nero he is, and he's happily sitting on a shelf in the sun in The ShortBus's bedroom.
I'll let you all know how this works out.
Unless Nero lives up to his name, and kills me in my sleep.