Okay then…I like to think I’ve been a reasonable child. My parents are weird enough to give the ones from that 90s TV show, Cindy on the Center, a run for their money in terms of both embarrassment and negligible parenting. One thing is for sure, they could teach each other things. But this type of thing really takes the cake, more so than that time Mum burst into tears when the guy at McDoogle’s couldn’t give her a fork. It’s a fast food restaurant. Who asks for a fork to eat a burger? No, I knew something was up ever since they busted out the tulip bulbs. And now it’s finally landed: we’re going to be a gardening family. All of us together.
I’m all for helping the environment and making the world a more beautiful place, but ever since Dad discovered the internet, he’s been mad on a load of conspiracy sites. They all say that trees and flowers need to be planted right now, or the world will tumble down into a nightmare of pollution and whatever else. Smog, maybe. He and Mum went out on Friday night and came back with a ton of plant bulbs, and said that we’re going to spend a bit of time each day planting them. An hour every day, to be precise. Two hours on Saturday, and an extra half hour on Sunday for ‘maintenance’. No good can come from this.
My sister has already barricaded herself in her room and is refusing to come out until Mum and Dad see sense. I’m half tempted to join her, but someone needs to be the voice of reason. If I can just sit them down and explain…we’re totally fine with helping out the garden, every now and then. Heaven knows we need some tulips. But not everything on the internet is true. If we plant tulip bulb collections, it should be for our garden, a relaxing plantation for beauty, not strange ideals.
Or something like that. I feel like I’m doomed.