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The Ugly Bugs Fall

I am four years old and its Mommy's birthday and I have a Grand Plan! Mommy is treating herself to a late lie-in and daddy is treating her to breakfast in bed. I watch him, round-eyed as he lays out a pretty tray - a lacy cloth, flowery china teacups,a cut glass tumbler of freshly-squeezed orange juice. It looks so purty and I am convinced Mommy will think so too. To add the final touch of finesse, Daddy plucks a fresh young rosebud from the front porch and pops it in a tall-stemmed bud vase. The crowning glory, it floats and twirls in the gentle breeze as we climb the stairs. Daddy gets a big, big kiss and hug from Mommy and I can see her eyes shine. I want her to love me too. I slide my gift behind my back and decide to hide it downstairs. It isn't nearly finished yet, I decide. There is something lacking in the presentation.

I scramble down off the bed, plonk down onto the rug and head at top speed for the garden, where I know all Mommy's favorite blooms are. I know they are her favorites because she spent all last winter looking forward to watching them slowly unfold. Some of them are from bulbs we planted together in the soil in the Fall,I remember proudly, my chest swelling. How she had smiled at me gently and gratefully, her soft curls dancing in the breeze as she wiped some earth from her face with the back of her wrist. I had patted the dirt back down softly over the tops of the bulbs for her, as she dropped them one by one into the holes she had dug with the bulb-planter I had given her for Christmas.

I reach the end of the path, but my boots don't feel quite right. Each one seems to be pointing the wrong way. Did I get them on right? I am too busy trying to decide where to start with my Grand Plan to stop and check. I try to make a decision, gazing at the tulips first. They have lovely big heads with fine tips pointing towards the sky on their temptingly straight stems. I pull the head off one of them and the stem snaps satisfyingly in my chubby fingers. That was fun! I pull another and another but only the flower heads come off, leaving the stems behind, starkly empty in rows. I wipe the sticky green juice on my new pyjamas and look around.

The next consideration is what to put them in. Mommy's hanging basket is the right shape and size. We filled it with flowers yesterday for Grandma, but I am convinced I can put it all back and after all I am only borrowing it. I tip out all the compost onto the patio and stuff the tulip heads

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