“I need a tree,” she said.
My daughter had requested odd things in the past, so hearing this statement wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities.
“As opposed to a fire hydrant?” I asked, trying to respond as if her statement made sense.
“A fire hydrant? No… Huh?”
I stared at her trying to let her know without stating the obvious. She was being vague and I was going to need a little more than “I need a tree” to respond intelligently.
She got the message and started explaining… with a question. “Well, you know my room?”
“Yes,” I said. “I know your room well. Possibly better than I want to know it.”
“It needs a tree in it,” she said.
“Is that so?” I was trying to receive the mental image she was beginning to paint, but apparently I didn’t have enough information yet. I saw a fichus tree in the corner of her room between her bookshelf and her laundry hamper.
“Yeah. A really big one,” she went on.
“You mean tall?” Her ceiling only went up to 7 feet. A seven-foot fichus couldn’t be that hard to find.
“No. I mean fat, not tall.” Okay that might be harder to find.
“A fat tree that isn’t tall, huh?” I asked.
“Well, it can be as tall as my ceiling, but it has to be fat.”
“Why does it have to be fat?” I asked, because I am a glutton for punishment.
“Cuz I think if I had a tree in my bedroom, I wouldn’t have room for my dresser,” she explained logically.
“That’s true,” I said, “but it doesn’t explain why you need a fat tree.”
“The tree will have drawers for my clothes,” she said, as if it should make perfect sense to anyone.
“Oh, I understand now,” I said; because that’s what you say when you don’t understand.
The little fichus tree in my imagination was replaced by a segment of tree trunk that looked like Owl’s house in the Hundred Acre Wood. The difference is that tree trunks that big belong in the Hundred Acre Wood along with fat yellow bears that are addicted to honey, stuttering piglets, and stuffed donkeys who drop into a coma at the slightest provocation. Tree trunks that big do not, under any circumstances, belong in a 10 foot by 10 foot bedroom.
Trying to instill some logic into my daughter without killing her dream, I said, “You realize that if you have a tree that large, the branches will start about 20 feet in the air.
“You don’t want branches and leaves?” I asked.
“I will just paint those on my ceiling.”
“That should be interesting,” I said, when what I meant was, “Are you out of your mind!?”
“I was thinking of a way to make grass grow on my floor, too.”
“You have hardwood flooring in there!”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I would cover it with plastic first.”
Oh, in that case, we have nothing to worry about, I thought.
“I’m trying to make a nice garden in my room,” she explained.
“Yes, I get that,” I said. I pointed out her window. “Tell you what: See that nice shady tree outside? Rather than going to the trouble of cutting it down, building drawers in the trunk, painting your ceiling and planting grass, why don’t you simply take a lawn chair out to that tree and sit under it all day?”
“There will be bugs,” she complained.
“I see. Okay, here’s what you do: Find out how much it will cost to move a three-foot diameter tree with drawers into your room, paint a mural on your ceiling, and plant grass on your hardwood floors.”
“Okay!” she said, excited.
“Then get on the internet and figure out the best price you can get for a bottle of bug repellent.”
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist, author & speaker. You can reach Laura at email@example.com Or visit her website www.lauraonlife.com for more info.
Laura is a syndicated columnist, author, & speaker. You can reach Laura at firstname.lastname@example.org Or visit her website <a
for more info.