Are you serious? You are as tall as my house. I know it’s rained a whole bunch recently and you are just so healthy you want to share it with the world, but you are a weed. Stop! When I came outside this afternoon to knock you over (not kidding, folks, these weeds are taller than me and are about as thick as two fingers together), I meant business. Take it as a warning. If you want to continue existing without being snapped in half, STOP GROWING.

If you do that for me, I can almost 100% guarantee that I’ll leave you alone. Stay small and we’re both happy. You live, I don’t have to do yard work.

Last summer, I let one of your cohorts slide past. Up against the house and out of reach of the lawn mower, this weed brethren of yours grew heartily. He grew taller than the front of the house. I thought, “Weed, the only reason I’m letting you live is that you will DIE a horrible death in the fall.” But this weed was heartier than I imagined. This weed survived the winter and is now A TREE.

Weeds in my yard this summer, take heed. YOU WILL DIE if you try to do that to me. And Stupid Weed Tree up against my house, you’re on notice, too.