We were wandering through the garden section of the mega-monster-warehouse-hardware store looking for humus/manure mix, mulch, and garden soil. Wearing bored, resigned expressions, Jeremy and Joshua were taking turns dutifully pushing the flat bed cart. Ruth and Hannah tagged behind whining and complaining. I lead the merry parade up and down the aisles of dirt, mulch and plants effectively tuning out my family, concentrating instead on what I needed.
After a bit, my ears focused the catty noises my daughters were making at one another and their words became more discernible.
"You are a blooming flower," Hannah chanted in a sing song voice, hands demonstrating the way a flower blooms.
"Stooooooop it!" Ruth demanded.
"You" she paused pointedly, "Are a blooming flower." Hannah repeated the motion. I figured she was talking about all the pots and planters full of marigolds, petunias, and inpatients that were surrounding us to either side. I also figured it was the repetitious phrase and the sing-songy voice that was making Ruthie crazy. Hannah has "twerp" down to a "T."
"Knock. It. OFF!" Ruth said with clenched teeth.
"Yooooou are a bloooooooooooooooming flower," Hannah tilted her head to one side, swung it to the other with a great flourish, gesturing with her hands again.
"I mean it Hannah. I swear, when you're going through puberty, I'm gonna call you a blooming flower and see how YOU like it." Ruthie pouted.
Jeremy goggled. Joshua giggled. And I stood there staring at Hannah, pondering where on earth she got this one. Realizing she achieved her goal: tormenting her sister while effectively grabbing our attention and half of the customers milling about, Hannah repeated her mantra for added effect. "You are a bloooooooooooooooooming flower." She did her stinker grin, giggled, especially when Jeremy unconvincingly said, "Knock it off." Joshua snorted.
"Weeeeellll," Ruth said pointedly to Joshua, "How would YOU like to be called a blooming flower."
He blushed, looked at the ground, kicked at an imaginary pebble and shook his head. "I don't think she'd call me that. I'm a guy. I don't really...have...a...um...blooming...uh, flower." My head was reeling. I really didn't want to have any part of 'the talk' in the middle of the mega-monster-warehouse-hardware store garden center. Oh great, now do I have to explain what Joshua meant by that to my girls? Where do these kids get this stuff?
I quickly paid while the young, teen-aged, male clerk studiously pretended he didn't hear those last two remarks. Jeremy suddenly found peat moss very interesting. And a few customers behind me in line seemed to have a problem with all of the flower pollen, having coughing fits at the same time. Hannah, delighted with her results, beamed.
"OOHhh!!!" Ruth, now leading our crew, stomped off towards the car, Hannah tailing directly behind.
"You are a bloooooooming flower...."
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