Oak-y doke

There are several things you expect your small child to bring home from school on a Friday.

Homework. Lunch box. Note from the principal.

But color me inquisitive when he hopped into the car with this (picture above).

"Why in the hell did you bring a stick into my car?" I asked.

"It's not a stick, Mom," he said and held it up for inspection, "it's an oak tree."

And I'm really a blonde.

OK. Soooooo....upon reading the directions, said tree had to be planted immediately. If not, it was to be stored in the veggie crisper of your fridge. I don't know about you, but a 3-foot-long stick...er...tree...is not gonna fit in my Frigidaire's veggie crisper. Sure, if I fold it up and snap it like a twig in six places, it's gonna fit. But that process really only works for getting into my skinny jeans.

Sooooooo....here we are on a Friday afternoon, planting said stick...er...twig....er....DAMMIT....tree:

After all was said and done, it's in the ground. We're laying bets on how long it takes before 1) it dies, 2) a strong breeze blows it over; or 3) our Golden Retriever decides to use it as a chew toy.

But - bottom line - he's a proud little beaver. And after asking him to give the new little guy a name, he immediately responded, "GABE!"

Sigh. It's the fish all over again. And we remember how well that turned out....