On Safari

It’s springtime! Everything is in bloom here in Scotland, which makes my heart happy. My four year old picked a dandelion and brought it to me the other day.

“Here is a sunshine flower I picked for you, Mommy!” he said. “We should plant some of these in our yard!”

I smiled at his perspective. And I told him that we will probably ALWAYS have some “sunshine flowers” in our yard. Honestly, I think it’s probably about the only plant I can’t kill.

Speaking of killing things (because it seems like we can follow a natural progression now that I’m on a roll with that subject matter), we bought this stuffed white tiger almost two years ago, hoping to do a big game hunting photo shoot (We come from a family of hunters, so we find that kind of thing to be adorable). However, I’d no sooner put everything together than an American dentist went hunting in Africa and ended up shooting the famed  lion Cecil, and social media erupted in anger, and that sixth sense that women swear they have started pinging me loud and clear and saying, “We will not be taking pictures of the kids with guns and animals ANYTIME soon.” So I went back to killing the basil plants in my kitchen that I buy all summer long with the best of intentions to water them and make a lot of caprese salads.

So I waited for about six months until it was springtime again and my three year old was getting ready to outgrow the khaki shorts and suspenders I had gathered for the ensemble (which would be an even greater travesty than offending the Twitter trolls), so I hauled my three year old, stuffed tiger, camera, and my very curious German neighbor (who happened to be standing in my kitchen when the mood struck) out to a field of daffodils and took the pictures.

Even after I took the pictures, I waited to post the them online. Not that the internet guardians have died down: we’ve had Harambe, Donald Trump, and now United Airlines to keep everyone entertained. I give up. Haters gonna hate, but I’m going to show you my adorable little hunter. Feel free to judge.


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