All growing well

So once again this year, the kids told me they wanted to do a garden.

They've wanted to do gardens before, and we've had mixed results. And by mixed I mean bad. The last one was an ill-fated herb garden attempt.

The only remnants we have of that are an out-of-control rosemary bush, which is apparently just shy of kudzu in its spreading ability.

But this year I vowed it would different. First off, we were planting fruits and vegetables. We will harvest our crops and live off the land. Granted, I know that unless we harvest chicken nuggets, I will not supply the bulk of my kids' diets. But this is a start, nonetheless.

We decided to do a raised bed this time, mainly because the soil at my house is a combination of rocks, clay and titanium, I think, based on the few times I have tried to dig in it.

I bought a few garden timbers (two I had to cut in half, which means I had to use a power saw. Fingers? Still 10, baby!) and a bunch of soil. The last thing to get was the seeds for our crops.

I took the kids to the seed section and told them they could each pick out one.

Parker told me he wanted to grow cherries. I told him we'd have to get a tree. "So let's get tree seeds," he said.

I explained to him that it would take a while for a tree to grow. "OK, oranges." Back to the cherry tale. "Fine," he said. "Broccoli."

"Broccoli?" I asked. What kid asks to grow broccoli? Mine, I guess.

Next up was my daughter's turn. She thought for a moment. "Dad, what are you going to pick?"

I was pretty sure I knew where this was going. Children are pretty simple when it comes down to picking between two choices.

The main goal: Figure out how to get both. "Hmmm. Well, I guess I was going back and forth between watermelons and cucumbers," I said, making a pretty safe bet that I had her choices covered.

"Fine. You take watermelon. I'll take cucumbers. And I'm pretty sure Mom wants green beans." Triple score. Well played, Allie. Well played.

We got home and it was time to roll up our sleeves and do the hard work. Sweat equity, I told them. They stared at me.

We hauled all of the stuff to the backyard and set the lumber out. We then hauled all of the soil to the backyard. (Oh as for the hauling: little red wagon, is there anything you CAN'T do? I mean, besides be successfully or legally towed behind a car.)

At that point, I could see the kids were working up a sweat and getting into the project.

After helping with the first couple of bags of soil, they both retreated inside. Probably going for a nice tall glass of refreshing water, I thought. Probably bringing one for the foreman. Those kids...

And the next thing out of my mouth was, "Why are you wearing bathing suits?"

"Can we go swimming now?"

"I thought we were going to do the garden!?!?!?"

They stared at me. "Can we go swimming now?" Always a good ploy: Just pretend I didn't say anything and I will just assume I went into a time vortex.

I was about to put my foot down. Time to earn your keep. Get to tilling. They asked, "Can we go swimming now?"

Truth of the matter, it's an 8-foot by 4-foot garden. I think I can swing it from here. "Hop in."

When they were done swimming, they planted the four rows of produce, and we dutifully watered our new garden.

The kids have been checking most every day, and I am pleased to report that each of the rows has shown some sprouts of green.

We'll be filling our table with our own food in no time. Well, that and some chicken nuggets.