Joey and Jenny, enterprising toddlers that they are, decide to spend one June afternoon planting Joey’s backyard. With pudgy fingers, they press apple, pumpkin, and lettuce seeds into the ground. Then, with the certain solemnity that children have, they vow to spend an hour each day, for the rest of the summer, tending their patch of Eden.
Surprisingly, neither forgets the promise, and for the next week, Joey and Jenny take time out of their schedules to water and weed. Sprouting shoots reward their efforts, future fruit-bearers stretching into the sunlight.
Eventually, though, Joey decides that he would much rather play baseball than spend sixty minutes of every day pulling weeds, coming to the conclusion that hitting home runs is more exciting than helping plants grow.
So, one morning, Joey takes the salt shaker from his kitchen cabinet and starts blanketing the garden. Halfway through, Jenny looks out her window, sees this vegetation devastation, and races over, begging for mercy. Joey, gentleman that he is, informs her that it is “his yard, his choice.”
“But I helped plant it, too!” says Jenny. [Continue reading this entry »]