“The website says after we re-pot George, we should ignore him for a week or so,” my husband said, reading from “The Care and Feeding of Your Succulent.”
“You mean, like, exclude him from conversations and pretend he’s not there?” I said. “That’s not very nice. And besides, I think it might affect his self-esteem.”
“They meant not to water him so he doesn’t get root rot.”
“ROOT ROT?” I exclaimed. “That sounds horrible!”
“They can also get soft rot, fungal stem rot, and leaf rot,” he added.
“Oh my god,” I said. “Can our baby get root rot, too?”
“Probably only if we water him too much.”
It suddenly dawned on me that caring for this Aloe plant was far more complicated than I’d anticipated and wondered if we should start over and work on “The Care and Feeding of Your Paramecium” instead.
I should mention here that I do come from a long line of green thumbs, so I was somewhat optimistic. My grandmother had a fabulous garden and lots of plants around the house and so did my mom. Feeling confident, my first plant when I lived on my own was something called a Ficus tree. It seemed really happy for the first week, but then one day, I came home from work and it had dropped every single leaf on the floor. It was completely bare. I had no idea what I had done wrong and decided it wasn’t my fault. It probably had a gene for baldness, just like my grandfather did.
So, the Aloe plant was not actually my first plant, but it was my first plant with my husband and I thought, since we would be raising a child together, it made sense to raise an Aloe plant together. The Aloe plant thought otherwise. Within two weeks, the leaves of our thriving Aloe plant had turned yellow, and then brown, and then dead.
“You watered it too much,” said my husband accusingly.
“That’s true,” I said. “But I learned an important lesson from this.”
“What?”
“I should bathe our child infrequently.”
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