“That’s a dandelion, it’s a weed.”








PLUCK
“Good job Sophie!” I said, patting the five-year-old’s head.



PLUCK
“No Sophie, that’s a flower! We keep those.”
“But…dat’s a flower too…” Sophie weakly said, pointing to the pale yellow dandelion that she ripped out of the ground.
“No, that’s a weed; the flowers are the purple ones over there.” I reinstated to my younger sister while gesturing to the irises.
“Well, why are dandelions bad an’ dose flowers good?” Sophie was confused, she tried to see any differences between the flowers, but other than the color there were no differences.
“Well, they’re bad because everybody says that they’re bad.” I myself was growing confused by my own reasoning. A kindergartener had me stumped.
“That doesn’t make ‘em bad.” Sophie frowned.
I sighed heavily. “I know, I know.”
“No you don’t! If you knew then you wouldn’t be pickin’ da dandelions.” Sophie said, hands on her hips. She stormed back inside to the comfort of air conditioning and Kool-aid, only to come back to me a few hours later.
PLUCK
PLUCK
“Sissy…what are you doing?” Sophie asked.
“Just…getting rid of the weeds…”

Before long, the garden was filled only with dirt. A few petals were scattered around and left on the exposed earth as a reminder of what was there…
The real weeds