Gardening with Clara

     The last few weeks have been perfect for tilling up some ground in the backyard for a garden and getting  the flowerbeds ready for summer.  It's a big job this year, but I figured if Clara and I went out between her naps, she could play in the dirt while I cultivated.
     First, we planted seeds in little containers to put on the windowsill.  I made holes in the dirt with my index finger and gave a pea seed to Clara.  She loves peas.  The seed looked just like a shriveled pea.
     "Do not eat this pea.  It's yucky," I explained.  "We put this pea in the little hole and cover it with a blanket of dirt."
     She put it in the hole.
     "Good job!" I said.
    She took it out of the hole.
    "No, you have to leave it in the hole so we can over it with dirt.  Here, let me try."
    "No! Me!"
    She put it in the hole.  She took it out.  She looked at me as if to say, "This doesn't do anything.  Why are we doing this?"
    I opened a package of dill seed.
    "Me! Me!"
    "Hon, these seeds are really tiny."
    "Me!"
     I gave her a dill seed and pointed to the dirt, but she dropped it on the sidewalk.  "Oh," she said sadly.  "Mommy."
     I found the seed and pushed the tip of my index finger against it to pick it up.
   "What the?"  her expression seemed to say. "That's the most amazing thing I've ever seen."
    I gave her another, which she promptly dropped for the express purpose of seeing if she could pick it up like I did.  She pushed the tip of her teensy-tiny index finger against it, muttering softly.
    It didn't work, but she shrugged it off and went to play with the garden hose.

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     The next day I decided to rip out part of the flowerbeds to make room for my tomato plants.  Clara brought her baby out and laid her in the dirt next to me.  She squatted by some dandelions and started singing under her breath.
    "Wheedle-deedle-deedle.  Beedle-deedle-deedle."
    Very, very quietly, I brought out my spade and cultivating claw to turn the earth.
    "Mommy!"
    "Yes?"
    "Me."
    "No, you can't have the claw. It's ouchy. Would you like a spoon to turn the dirt with?"
    "'poon."
    I got her a spoon, but she wanted the spade.  I let her have it.  She wielded it in a way that she thought was expert, but that unfortunately sprayed my face with dirt.  She repositioned herself to squat directly in front of me, her little diaper bottom completely obscuring my view of the weeds I was pulling.
     "Sweets," I said, moving her to the side.  She squawked her protest and I was tempted to toss the baby doll way out in the grass to give her something to do.
    The thing about working with a toddler is, their attention span lasts a few minutes, at most.
    "Jewsh," she said soon after I'd given her the spade.
    "That is correct.  We are Jewish," I replied, stalling for time.
    "Mommy.  Mommy!!  Jewsh, jewsh, jewsh, jewsh!!!!"
   "Alright, alright, I'll get you some juice."
    I went inside, washed all the dirt off my hands, found a clean sippy cup and filled it with Naked Green Machine, a premium, vitamin-enhanced juice blend whose 20-ounce version costs as much as a brick of cheese.
      Clara chugged it and tossed the cup to the side before hunkering down in the dirt once more.
     A few moments passed.  I was just getting engrossed in the weeding when I felt her draping herself over my crouched form.
     "Hi, Sweetie," I said.
     "Mommy," she crooned, twining her hands around my neck.  "Mommy," she whispered, planting a huge, wet kiss right on my mouth.