When you plant an apple seed, you get a . . .

Yesterday, I gave Terza an apple.

A half hour later, she came to me with a very chagrined look on her face.

"Mommy!" she said. "There is yucky stuff inside this apple!"

By which she meant the core. Which she had never seen before. Because she is two years old.

It was one of those moments where I was pierced suddenly by the revelation of how small she is, how unthinkably new. These moments always make me think several things at once:

1. How amazing and magical to be discovering everything for the first time!
2. Shit, she's so pristine. I can't possibly keep her like this. I'm going to screw her up.
3. No wonder she has tantrums and throws things. She's two fucking years old.
4. Kiss! Cuddle! Hug! Devour!

Once that exhausting thought process was through, I replied to her:

"Oh, look what you found! It's the apple seeds!"

"Apple seeds?" she asked, dubiously.

"Yes, and if we take them out and put them in soil and water them, do you know what will grow?"

Her eyes got wide and her face wore that "Knowledge is slowly dawning on me! I got this! I got this!" expression.

Then she shouted: "CARROTS!"

Repeat thoughts 1-4.