In lieu of an actual mother’s day post

Since I spent yesterday slaving away in a field (no, really!) building fences and digging up Jerusalem Artichokes, I wasn’t able to do a Mother’s Day post.

In all the glory that is my mom, she must have sensed my lack of being able to post so she graciously surprised me by essentially writing a post for me.

So here’s one from my mom.  Thanks, mom.  I love you very much.

_______

Taylor, your description of “working in the yard” reminded me of your now (amongst family and friends) famous gardening story…since it is Mother’s Day, I feel I have the right to share it with your blog readers…

So…. Taylor (who was around 6 years old) and I were planting daffodils and other miscellaneous bulbs in a newly dug flower bed in front of the house her dad and I were buiding…Taylor stepped back and took a long slow look at the house, the garden, the beautiful woods and the flowers we had planted…

“You know, Mommy…someday this will all be mine, right?”

“Well Taylor…you never know…when your dad and I get old we might have to sell this place to have enough money to take care of ourselves in our old age.”

Taylor looked up to me with her big, beautiful blue eyes and said in her wonderful little Smurfette voice…”Mommy, you don’t have to worry about that. By the time you get old I will be a rich and famous scientist” (she had not discovered history yet).

(Ed.  And also, I hadn’t discovered science yet, which I failed miserably at.  Who knew that science wasn’t about training dolphins and blowing stuff up?  There was like…math and shit.  What the hell is up with that?)

My heart swelled with pride…what a precious, innocent, unselfish child…in my mind I finished Taylor’s sentence…”and I wil take care of you…”

And as I was gazing down on her with the adoring look that only a mother can give to her child she said:

…”And I will put you in the finest nursing home money can buy!”

Aaaaaand…moment over.  It’s a wonder she kept me around, right?  Doesn’t that make you want to run out and have kids, so that they will tell you they are going to throw you in a home when you get old?  What a little darling I must have been.

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