For several years, since I have had kids, the concept of house plants in my care has been so overwhelming I flat out refused to have them in the house. A non-talking being needing care and tending on top of my staggering caring load was inconceivable. The few times that a straggler got through the front door, I was burdened by guilt as they slowly failed to thrive and die a parched, neglected death. As the roots dried out, I treated it , if at all, like another piece of clutter. Before I thought of watering it, I'd wonder, should I dust it? Lately, I have started caring for plants again. My childcare duties have been alleviated , the kids can now dress themselves, have a solid concept of time and can feed themselves. There is now a little wedge in the pie chart for plants. My good friend brought me three charming characters a few weeks ago. I have learned somethings from taking care of them. They are alive. they are alive like me. And like me, they need water. Hav