Monday, April 2, 2012

Gardens, Toddlers, and Horse Pucky

What in the hell is wrong with parents today? I 've gotta tell ya, some people take the cake.

Last year I won the garden contest in my neighborhood, so this year I plan on doing another bang up job with my gardening talents. I may not win, but I already have some sprouts, plants, and other perennials poking their heads through the soil. I plan on putting on a good show with additional annuals I want to plant the end of the month.

Enter two toddlers who like looking at Buzi (the cat) when whe suns herself in the window. Rather than staying on the sidewalk where toddlers belong, they tramp through my flower garden to get a closer view at Boo. What irks me are the parents who are standing right there allowing the rug rats to trample my perennials, crushing the delicate buds to smithereens.

After expressing my dissatisfaction to the numb skull parents, one of the parent's comment was, "But she only wants to get a closer look at the cat."  And I said, "So, have her look at the cat from the sidewalk." Trample. Trample.

Here's my plan. Tomorrow, when I'm at the barn, I'm going to bring home a bucket of fresh horse pucky and spread it in the garden. Let's see the little ba#%&$#% (darlings) walk through that and then go into their house on the nice white rug.  Mommy and Daddy will love it.   

Happy Spring!

 

7 comments:

lightly said...

don't forget the sign

PLEASE KEEP OFF THE PUCKY

Randy Johnson said...

When I was 5 years old I fell off of Mrs. Eaton’s fence and broke one of her prize geraniums. Now just to set the scene… Mrs. Eaton (the old neighbor lady) was scary enough when she was looking out her front window at you walking down the public sidewalk, but when she was looking out her back window at you inside of her yard, upside down in her flower bed no less, it was infinitely more frightening. I looked up at her through the glass wishing I had landed in a bees nest, or pit of lava… anything but this. Well before I could attempt an escape I was drug back home by the scruff of my neck where Mrs. Eaton presented my mother was with the evidence of the heinous crime; Exhibit A. one flattened geranium, and the prime suspect, me.

I was sent to cellblock A. where I awaited the verdict. It came swiftly. I was driven to the nursery where I was made to pick out one flowering red geranium nicer than the one I had murdered, pay for it with my own allowance, and worst of all deliver it in person to Mrs. Eaton. As much as I hated that day, things sure were better back then!

Pamela Beers. said...

lightly, the problem with a sign is toddlers can't read. Their parents can, but the parents usually don't give a horse pucky. That's why we're raising a generation of entitled, spoiled brats.

Your parents knew what good parenting meant, Randy. That's why you turned out so good, except for the gin in your drinking water. ;)

Christina said...

Dont even get me started. I am like a psycho when it comes to my yard and I would have been major ticked off. Gardens are a lot of work. Show some respect!

Pamela Beers. said...

Thanks for validating my sentiments, Christina. Yes, gardens are a lot of work and an expense.

The horse pucky worked great. In fact it smells so bad no one comes near my garden. HA!

Along These Lines ..... said...

Today's crappy parents breed tomorrow's crappy kids.

Pamela Beers. said...

Amen, Nick!I like your play on words.