We have a garden. I like the idea of a garden. Ellie LOVES the idea of the garden. Wes is obsessed with the garden. Since the garden is not a train, Harry does not care about the garden. There. All our bases are covered.
Recently I have been coming home from work to find Wes forlornly holding decimated green tomatoes in his hand. Tomatoes that have not met their tomato sandwich destiny. Instead, their spotless smooth green skins have been pierced by the fangs of some insidious garden beast. Ellie will tell me with all the compassion of an Emergency Room doctor, touching her little hand to my shoulder and affecting a very concerned look, "Daddy found more tomatoes that have been eaten. He's very sad." I try to muster up the appropriate level of gravitas, but really I'm just thinking that Whole Foods has some really nice tomatoes and I've never seen teeth marks in them. I'm also thinking did I put that wine in the fridge yesterday? I really need some wine. Oh, right, tomatoes. Yeah, that sucks.
Fast forward a couple of days. Wes has decided it's a varmint (his words, I'm not kidding, yes, I live with Yosemite Sam) that's damaging our "crop." He sets out rat traps. He catches something. In my mind, moments before it fell into the trap it looked like this:
Apparently, he's got friends, so the battle wages on. Even today. Luckily, I think we may get some help on the front lines.
Last Sunday our pastor gave the children's sermon on the rabbits in his front yard. He was expressing his pleasure in watching the rabbits frolic in the yard and about how much he and his wife wanted the rabbits to feel welcome. Midway through this discussion a little voice pipes up: "do the rabbits eat your vegetables?" Now, just who do you think interrupted the pastor? I'll give you one guess. He assures her that there are no vegetables in his front yard and the rabbits aren't hurting anything. The sermon continues uninterrupted. However, as she's processing out she stops, turns, walks up to Dr. Sam and says (none too quietly...not a trait she inherited) "WE DON'T HAVE RABBITS...WE HAVE CHIPMUNKS...THEY EAT OUR TOMATOES...BUT MY DADDY KILLED THEM SO IT'S OKAY."
Dr. Sam had a hard time getting his composure back for the big kids' sermon.
