Return of the Lily

I beam like the parent, whose toddler has just spouted some gibberish that some sap gushingly interpreted as a declaration of Independence, as my eyes rest on the profusion of green on the dining table. A smug smile takes up permanent residence. 15 days and 12 hours, and the Calla's look positively prosperous. I have poked, prodded, watered, snipped, plucked and tweaked with the natural, nervous trepidation of she who kills plants. And yet, it lives....
My sense of awe starts to give way to a serene smugness, and the best part is, unlike my children, I don't have to worry about forgetting them somewhere!