Distracted Dad
Richard Hearn and the family get green-fingered
I’m enjoying the fact that it’s warmer and sunnier. At the weekend we were all in the garden, sorting out stuff. I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing when it comes to gardening, but I probably look convincing from a distance. A bit like an actor playing one of the surgeons in ER. But you wouldn’t want them operating on you.
Youngest™ was outside as well, in a pushchair, looking bemused under a sun hat. Youngest™ seemed content most of the time but, facing the plants, he probably thought he was queuing up at a buffet. I should explain that earlier in the week, he’d grabbed himself a daffodil and, as he sticks everything in his mouth, I wasn’t sure whether he’d eaten any.
We pieced together the petals like a jigsaw hoping nothing was missing. (Daffodils, if you didn’t know, can be poisonous.) I’m making light of this now, but it didn’t feel great then. Yet another call to NHS Direct…
There’d been another battle with nature that morning when on the way out, a bee flew into the hallway. The Boy and my wife rushed into the living room. (My wife has asked me to say that it was a massive bee, but in fact it was normal size, perhaps even a little on the small side.)
“I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing when it comes to gardening, but I probably look convincing from a distance”
I was stuck outside with Youngest™ in the pram, while the bee had the time of its life in the airlock that is the hall. Getting the bee out was a tortuous process, not helped by the fact the pram, The Boy’s coat, and my abstract painting in the hall, are all brightly-coloured.
Anyway, I think I got my own back against nature with some ignorant gardening. The Boy busied himself making ‘a salad’, which involved collecting random leaves and stalks and placing them under a bucket. He doesn’t even like salad, but he was enjoying this.
My main problem is knowing what is a weed and what is not a weed. Another problem is recognising when something is dead. (Stop me if I’m getting too technical.) There’s other issues, but those two alone get me off to a bad start.
We had some flowers to plant. “Where shall I put these?” I asked my wife. “Anywhere,” she answered.
The Boy came over to help, but was then distracted by an important issue: “Hands up if you know what eats penguins,” he said, sticking his hand up enthusiastically, like he’s doing a stretching exercise.
“I don’t know,” I replied. The flowers were in. My wife looked over. “Why have you put them in a line? It looks like Connect Four.”
“Sea lions,” said The Boy.
In terms of nature, it seems The Boy’s the one with all the answers.
