Attempted Murder

These little sprouts have been stretching steadily toward the light a few inches above their heads. As I tend to do this time of year, I get forgetful, neglectful, overrun with life. This year was no different, and I wandered into the spare room to find the poor sprouts gasping for water.

They’ve since been watered and babbled at by an interested baby, so surely they’ll recover as though nothing ever happened. One can hope.