Scream or Cry: Soil Sadness

A few weeks ago I spent all morning on the phone trying to make arrangements to go to my Grandpa's funeral. One might ask how is this possible with three small children? Shhhhh, don't tell anyone, but it's made possible by a little thing called TV. (hey, desperate times call for desperate measures right, people?) So I turned on Thomas The Train, filled a couple bowls with Fishies and pretzels, and prayed that would keep my oldest two occupied while the baby napped. Now rarely do my boys get such an opportunity to have a TV free-for-all so they were completely enthralled for the first half of the morning. The second half Zander decided to go outside and play.

I watched him from the windows (sort of) while I made half a dozen more phone calls. I remember vague glimpses of him carrying around his Tonka dump trucks, his really dirty hands, and water coming out of the hose. None of these images were unusual so I was naturally, not alarmed. When I finally got done with making all my phone calls I opened the front door to check on Zander.

Immediately out my front door I see this. . .
Why is that a problem you ask? Well, it took me a minute of thinking about it too. . . then I remembered that there used to be two bags of potting soil sitting there next to the empty planters patiently waiting to be used.





So then I began looking for the missing bag of potting soil. I didn't have to go far because it was right around the corner of the house. Zander had taken the liberty of putting it to good use while I procrastinated trans-planting my broccoli starts. I couldn't really be angry and scream or cry because it had been sitting there awhile and I really should have trans-planted them sooner.

*Sigh*

Then I realized that now I would have to wait (translation: procrastinate) to trans-plant even longer until I could buy more potting soil. *Heh Heh, big smile*