When the doorbell rang, I looked out my window to see two children standing at the front door. One was holding a large blooming plant. His younger sister held a miniature rose in a tiny clay pot.

They were my neighbors, so I opened the door.

“Will you take care of our plants?” the brother asked. “We are going out of town for a few days.”

His sister looked up at me with begging eyes.

“Sure,” I said, inviting them inside the house. They put the plants down on my entryway table and ran back home.

When my son came home from school, he was curious.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“We are plant sitting while our neighbors are away,” I said.

“You mean we have to keep them alive!” he said.

“Yes,” I answered. “They were Mother’s Day gifts.”

He just shook his head.

There is a reason he and his older brother cook breakfast for me on Mother’s Day instead of investing in a blooming plant.

“Don’t worry, I said. “It took much longer than a few days for me to accidentally destroy the last plant you gave me.”

He set his school bag down in front of the entryway table and smelled the flowers.

“Here’s a hint,” he said. “They need water.”



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