Beans

Back in May, Mum, Sarah and I were in Canadian Tire. And this caught Sarah's eye:

Sarah carried it around the store, and told us over and over that it was her "purse". When it was time to leave, Mum broke down and bought it for Sarah (after Sarah broke down when I told her that I was not buying it for her).

When we got home, we discovered that it came with seeds...which Sarah wanted to plant.

But there were quite a few seeds (beans and pumpkins), so we decided that the twinnies should plant some, too.

After the planting was completed, I told the children that the seeds had to be watered.

Which they did. For about an hour. Until I thought that every single seed would definitely drown.

And then they never watered them again.

I watered all the little pots. Every night. I even (briefly) contemplated planting the pumpkins in my gardens to give them a fighting chance. But I decided not to because they take up too much space, and Bethie had already suckered me in to planting a watermelon that I am sure won't thrive. Most of the beans made it into the garden though.

There were some beans still remaining in the little pots. I stopped watering them. They were a nuisance, and a hassle, and an eye sore. Finally, I decided to throw them out. And that's when I saw that they had produced beans.

Once informed, the children rushed out to pick the beans.

And then they got to eat them for dinner.

At first, I was happy. My little urbanites got to experience planting, caring for, growing, harvesting, and eating the fruits of their labour.

And then it occurred to me: I did the vast majority of the work.

This is sort of like the story of The Little Red Hen...but with a socialist twist.