Before you mark me down as a heinous bitch who made her toddler mow the lawn, of course I mean garden in the noun-y sense, not in the verb-y one… .
I have semi-transformed a shitey patch of weed-ridden dirt into a slightly less shitey weed-ridden patch of bark, ‘toddler-friendly plants’ and Play Arena.
Until about 3 weeks ago, my interest in gardening would have rated on a negative scale.
The only other time I would have dreamt of lying prostrate in the dirt would have been to search for a Malteser that had rolled under the couch.
Gardening has now been added to the list of things-I-never-would-have-done-before-I-became-a-parent.
This also includes:
I don’t think it will ever include:
Magoo spent a whole 30 seconds cavorting in her Play Arena (aka a sandpit) before finding an empty milk bottle and a peg much more interesting.
For me, though, the garden has a greater significance.
For one, I felt like a kick-ass she-woman moseying around Bunnings and the local landscaping yard picking out bits of fencing and hauling big bags of compost.
For two, (and this is pretty amazing) it was actually exciting to see our baby lettuces and violas grow. I’ve never grown anything in my life (except a baby, but I had limited control over that).
Does mothering extend to plants too? Maybe.
At any rate, I’m enjoying watching Magoo hang out in her new patch of dirt.
Have you ever made a garden for a little person? I’d love to hear how you did it.
AFTER (Still a work in progress):