It's a bright and sunny day, and I'm in the office, doing something on the computer, when Evie runs in from outside, fist full of a big, bright, boldly yellow dandelion.

(Dandelions and daisies, just like crayon art, are items that I find myself inundated with as the mother of three girls)

"Here, Mama!" she says cheerfully. "This flower is for you to put in some water."

"Thanks, sweetie," I say. "That's a really nice flower."

 I give it an obligatory sniff, then set it down on my desk next to a stack of papers. And I turn back to my computer.

Unfortunately, Evie seems to have been born with a built-in BS detector. She does not turn away. She stares back, and her clear, beautiful blue eyes see straight through me.

"I gave it to you for you to put in SOME WATER," she repeats. "So it will stay tall."

(Evie is not about to let her gift be doomed to an unnoticed death, wrinkling away to a faded shadow in the clutter on my desk. )

I am chastened, and finally I turn away from the computer. "Okay, sweetie," I say. "I'll put your flower in some water."

And I do.

I put it in some water, and it does stay tall.