Musing: Weeds and Family

"My garden is full of weeds," said my uncle.

If a child considers it paying homage to a recently deceased grandfather by having his bust tattooed onto a bicep or pectoral, while continuing to do the thing that ultimately killed him, then yes. Your garden is full of weeds.

If a child considers life only something that can be documented, highlighted, and exaggerated through social networking sites, and views her body as means of making friends, then yes. Your garden is full of weeds.

If a child considers yelling, crying, and hitting the only way of "negotiation," then yes. Your garden is full of weeds.

If your wife is a pathetic porcine plop who considers it acceptable to yell, manipulate, and berate, then yes. Your garden is full of weeds.

"It's too bad," I said. "Dandelions seemed like so much fun to play with some odd years ago, didn't they?"