Apples Anyone?

When my kids asked me yesterday afternoon if they could 1) have apples for snacks 2) eat their apples outside, I thought that the heavens parted for once in my favor. My heart burst with pride when they went on to tell me that there was no need for me to get up (I was having some Braxton Hicks contractions and was lying on the couch), as they could get the apples out of the refrigerator themselves.

After I recovered, I went outside to praise my children for their independence and thoughtfulness.

I found my trio hovered around the garden hose, taking turns filling up their plastic watering cans.

"Thanks guys," I said, turning off the hose, "But the flowers don't need to be watered today; it just rained."

"We're not watering the flowers," said Cortlen, dumping his bucket of water on a freshly turned patch of soil. "We're watering our apple trees."

That's when I noticed the plastic bag lying on the ground. The one that used to contain half a dozen Braeburns.

After a brief interrogation and a few excavations, I discovered that my kids planted the seeds from their snacks in my flower bed. Upon learning that becoming Johnny Appleseed took a lot of hard work, they decided that the job went a lot faster if they simply planted the whole apple.

P.S. Lest I be forever accused by my offspring of being an apple tree hater, I left the apples where they were buried.