Last weekend I decided to plant a vegetable garden. Why you ask? I have no freaking idea. I hate yard work but was feeling industrious. It was the first warm weekend of the Spring. One where I was certain we wouldn’t need coats until September (I was proven wrong on Monday). I convinced David to dig me a 8×4 area of the yard before he left for work. Bridget and I had the day alone together and figured it would be an opportunity to get her used to being on the grass and in the dirt.

She loved it.

This kid who just last year refused to step on the grass was running on it. Shoveling the dirt and “helping” me plant. Yet it wasn’t easy. You see there were these ants. Gross ants and bugs everywhere. I was NOT going to have my vegetables overrun with insects. I was planting them for our bunnies and our families. So Bridget and I headed to our local Home Depot to get whatever we needed to kill the suckers. Along with every other freaking person on Cape Cod lured by the nice weather and lack of snow.

We picked up the insect killer, plant food and weed killer. I’m sure at this point whatever I manage to grow will be more toxic than organic. It started in the line at the store where Bridget shouted, “BOOTS” and pointed to a cashier who was wearing orthopedic braces like Bridget wears. Of course everyone stared (she isn’t quiet in her exuberance) and I was grateful that instead of being embarrassed by the attention, the woman stopped what she was doing and came over to Bridget.

She showed off her “boots” and showed excitement of Bridget’s. Told Bridget how she used to have boots in that exact design until they were outgrown and she got an “upgrade”. Told me that duct tape works if they are ever cracked and thanked Bridget for liking her braces. When Bridget said BOOTS and I interpreted for her, the woman proclaimed, “I love it and I will start calling these my cool boots”.

The kindness this woman showed, in the line of a busy store when she took time out of her day to speak with Bridget as if she was a typical kid showing off a new pair of boots. Rather than hurrying us through the line or turning her head away in embarrassment.

It started in the line of a store where I was a proud and grateful parent of a typical kid in a not so typical pair of “boots”.  I carried that feeling all the way through the day as I gleefully killed any insect or weed who thought for a moment of invading our masterpiece:

This has been a post in response to the Finish That Sentence Friday prompt,  “It started in the line at the grocery store…”

Brought to you by:
Finding Ninee
Dawn Skorczewski (sentence thinker-upper)
Nikki Gilbert