Sam has been quite the budding horticulturalist lately. He loves to “plant” – move soil from one potted plant to another, usually exposing the roots or otherwise traumatizing the plant, while making a big ole mess in the process. Is it annoying? A resounding yes. Have I said anything to him? No. I am trying to step back and look at the big picture and let him have his fun “planting.” I want him to like plants and flowers when he’s older and associate happy memories with it, rather than getting chided for unintentionally beating up on the poor plants. So Mom has kept mum as he putters around wreaking havoc and spilling “potty soil” (as he calls it) all over the place. It’s actually pretty hilarious to watch him work his magic, all industrious and well-meaning in his destruction. I try to remind myself that the plants are just plants and won’t even last through the summer. Hopefully his interest will continue to grow along with a deeper understanding of the whole keep-the dirt-around-the-roots concept.
Sam, Sam the Gardening Man
So there I was all proud of myself for keeping it all in perspective. And there he was all proud of his planting, ahem, accomplishments. As I basked in a moment of silence trying to savor the moment, Sam piped up, commanding me, “Mommy, say, ‘Good job, Sam.’ ”
OK, got it. Good job, Sam! And good job to you too, Mommy.
LibbY
too much undeserved praise?
Sam “Mommy, say ‘God job, Sam!'”