Oh No, I Killed Grandpa
Fast forward a year.
Did I already tell you how bad I am at gardening? Well, I'm pretty darn bad.
This summer, I thought I'd attack the flowerbeds around the deck. They were overgrown with weeds and grass. I pulled the weeds and some of the grass and sprayed all around with Roundup. That got rid of the weeds, but the grass just got greener and thicker. So, a few weekends ago, I figured that desperate times call for desperate measures and poured Roundup over the grass. It worked. The grass is now gone. But guess what else happened.
Yep. One of my lilacs is dying.
I had to come clean, so I went to talk to my Dad.
"Dad, I'm afraid I accidentally poisoned one of your bushes."
"Oh, that's just bad," Dad told me, "you know why? 'Cause your mother gave them names. One is called "Grandma", the other one is called "Grandpa". I told her it was a bad idea to name them after us, but she never listens."
Just when I thought I couldn't feel any more guilty. "So did I kill Grandma or Grandpa?"
"I don't know. I keep forgetting which is which."
Later in the day, my Mom came over and I had to repeat the confession with her.
"I accidentally killed that bush, Mom. I tried to kill the grass. I am so sorry."
"Oh yeah, I know, you killed Grandpa," Mom said brightly. "Dad's kind of upset."
Apparently the best time for planting lilacs is in the fall, so in a month or two, I'm going to go get myself a new Grandpa. Mom is going to help me pick him out. She's already asking what color Grandpa I want.
I'd come up with more Grandpa jokes, but I have to go give the dog a bath. Last night, Mr. Goldie had his boyze over for a game of pool, and apparently they let the dog eat sardines out of a can. Guess what he smells like now.