Black Thumb

On Sunday I watched two little kids sitting on the bus. One was reading The Invasion of the Vampire Spiders, the other was playing with a Nintendo Gameboy. And okay, neither activity was particularly redeeming, but I was glad the Invasion of the Vampire Spiders kid was mine.

The curriculum is still going extremely well, though the science part faltered a little when I kept putting off finding seeds to plant. We finally made it to a nursery, where we bought nasturtium seeds and these whiz-bang peat pellets that magically grow into little cups in which you can plant your seeds. We headed up to the counter with the clerk who was helping us, and I said, “Thanks very much for the assistance; I know absolutely nothing about plants. I mean, I once killed a cactus through lack of watering.”

Her cheerful gait slowed down, and I was reminded of when I worked at the cat shelter and horrible people would come in to apply to adopt a cat. “It’s…you know, nasturtiums are a lot harder than cactuses…”

“Oh! I know! That’s why I need all the help I can get,” I said, with a benign smile, but she didn’t look convinced.

Paul whispered something, and I leaned over to whisper back, “What?”

“Do we need to buy plant food?” he said in my ear.

“I have no idea, sweetie. You know what I’m like about plants. I think you need to ask the woman behind the counter.”

“You ask it,” he said.

“Nope. I’m not your translator. You need to ask your own questions.”

“DOWENEEDPLANTFOOD?” he called quickly up in the general direction of the counter.

She smothered a laugh. “That’s a very good question. No, you don’t need plant food now. But when the flowers get big, you will. Thanks for asking!” She looked noticably relieved. “You are going to have a green thumb, I can tell.”