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The Tale of the FlowersThe story of Valentine’s Day this year for us is a story about flowers. I had flowers waiting for Cyndy in the kitchen when she got up on Valentines Day; lovely pink tulips. Later in the day when I was watching TV with Max Cyndy brought me beautiful red roses with baby’s breath. Max saw the flowers and said “Oh, I have something for you!” He popped up from the couch, dug into his backpack, and (taa-daa!) pulled out carnations wrapped in cellophane printed with little red hearts. [Side note: I never realized that carnations are such hardy flowers. After a few hours in Max’s backpack (!) they still looked nice, and they freshened up beautifully after Cyndy put them in a vase with water.] I was impressed and touched by Max’s flowers. At the age of 14-almost-15 I don’t believe I would have been thoughtful enough to buy flowers for my parents.
I know what you’re thinking: “We see flowers from David, flowers from Cyndy, and flowers from Max. What?! No flowers from Grant?” Well, there were flowers from Grant, but even before a picture could be taken the well-dressed-young-man took the flowers, delivered them to The Girl Friend, and the two of them went to dinner at a really nice Italian restaurant. On the one hand I have to admire the panache and savoir-faire of the 16-almost-17 year old, on the other it forces some undesired reflection: Wasn’t I just changing his diapers yesterday? Isn’t this happening a lot faster than it should?