My second-grader, Hayden, came home from school on Friday with a
twig sapling to plant in the yard, in honor of Arbor Day. He put it on the patio table, essentially making it the dogs’ toy of the minute. All weekend, he inquired about when we would plant his “tree”. Finally, I broke the bad news. “I think the dogs ate your tree, buddy.” He handled his disappointment quite well.
Today, Hayden walked in with yet another
stick sapling to plant. “What’s this?” I asked excitedly. “Mrs. H let me have the class tree.” “Did you tell her what happened?” “Yeah, and she said to take this one.” “What did you say?” I asked, reminding him of his manners. “I said, ‘I guess that’s why they call it a DOGWOOD TREE.'”
If this tree grows to maturity, Hayden will be 105 years-old. Best of luck, Twiggy.