Just because I've decided not to share their humiliations on the internet doesn't mean I can't share mine right?
I've been working hard at gardening. And by hard I mean tending to a couple of herb/veggie plants in a motley assortment of pots, and culling small pieces of plants all over the place and sticking them in the earth at home in the vain hope they'll like it here.
Most of them have. Thereby boosting my garden and my self-confidence.
So when Friday's school sent home some seeds weeks ago with instructions to nurture a small plant to return in time for the annual fundraising Plant Sale, I was confident. I got this. I can grow a measly parsley plant right?
Wrong.
Turns out the bursting new green buds I celebrated, the little shoots I protected and nurtured (Friday, btw, could not have been less interested), the small (but flourishing!) little plant I packaged up and carefully transported to school this morning is not parsley.
It is a weed.
At the school gates I spied a tiny fluffy purple flower on the plant and with a sinking feeling broke off and tasted a small leaf.
Not parsley.
I was nearly, nearly, that mother who tried to sell weed at the school fair.
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it's nice to be important and important to be nice