Middle School Flowers

Last night's dinner conversation was dominated with one topic, flowers. This is a drastic departure from our usual dinner conversations, which is dominated with trivia and challenges, Disney and U.S. Presidents. We didn't even get around to asking which Disney characters share their names with flowers, or which President planted the White House rose garden. Disappointing.

This isn't to say it wasn't interesting. Savannah shared that her friend was getting her a friendship flower, excelling at ignorance in this topic, I asked what a friendship flower was. She said, with a glare over her glass which inferred I had just asked the dumbest question in the world (an inference I will certainly prove wrong, by asking a yet dumber question), "Friendship flowers are for friends and Love flowers are for people you like. Duh." It was like she took my dumb question and decided to trump it with a useless answer. She can't use that technique. I've mastered that technique. Before the train got out if control, "No. What makes them different, how do you know one from the other?" Yellow friendship cards and pink secret admirer cards, was I learned.

Apparently this friend bought sixteen of these yellow carded signs of friendship and friend of Sierra's even stepped up to the plate and bought a secret admirer one, the poor deluded fool. We asked her if it was for her, to which she gave a strong no, then a less defiant probably not. Because we are sick, mostly Shelly, we asked about getting a card from someone tall, dark and wrestlely. Blushing achieved, we moved on.

I told the kids I went to school before flowers, so we didn't do that, but I am pretty sure that is wrong. We probably did do that, well if by we I mean not me, but people at my school did. I am not sure why I, the paragon of middle school studliness would have no memory of this, or how all the girls who were wooing me would have missed this opportunity to show their love, but alas I was left flowerless. Perhaps they didn't deliver to band room, where I ate my lunch with my friends who played Dungeons and Dragon's. Who knows? Clearly this is an enduring mystery.

My wife made it clear they did do the flowers at her school, I could see by the liveliness in her eyes she could still almost reach out and touch them. It was as if the big white bucket had been plopped down in the center of or table, nearly smashing our spaghetti. Then, with pouty lips, "I didn't get any." "I didn't get any either," I tried, thinking my own unbelievable rejection would somehow ease the newly opened wound. Dang you, middle school flowers. She wasn't having any of it. She knew why I didn't get flowers, but instead she said, "You don't like flowers. I never get flowers." Woe now, just woe. It is not about the liking of the flowers, its about the girls who sent the flowers, but for some reason they couldn't find me. Also, I get you flowers. I actually said that last part, so "I get you flowers."

It was then my wife look away from the imaginary white bucket, full of flowers for other people and looked into my indignant face. She smiled, like you do when someone has missed the point. She then took my hand, which was resting on the corner of the table. "You do get me flowers," she said agreeing to my protest, "but I had to get married for that."