You Don't Buy Me Flowers, Anymore.

Last week I took Lizzy grocery shopping for the first time since she started kindergarten. I forgot how much she liked it. Mostly, I believe because she got a cookie from the bakery every week. We were by the bakery when she told me to close my eyes. “Why?” I questioned.

“Just do it!” I was told. So, I did. Well, kind of. I peered at her through squinted eyes. She ran to the flowers. I forgot how much she liked to buy me flowers. Meaning: she liked to choose flowers to give to me that I paid for. She almost always chose the Crazy Daisies. The Crazy Daisies are dyed hot pink, yellow, purple and blue; the kind of flowers that when placed in the vase dye the water purple. If I ever suggested a different, more muted arrangement she would politely but firmly let me know that it wasn’t my decision. I was the recipient not the “chooser.”

She looked at all the flowers than carefully pulled out a Crazy Daisy arrangement. She ran back and presented the flowers to me.