A few minutes ago, Anna Kate started yelping that she's stepped on one of my roses. My roses? I'm trying to figure it out as she continues yelling about her foot. Did she bring a branch in from the rose bush in the backyard yesterday and it suddenly appeared on the floor? No, she tells me, it's from those roses. The roses from my Valentine bouquet. And sure enough, I pick up from the floor a long stemmed pink rose whose petals immediately fall off in bud form. Who took this rose out of the vase? No one.
So, after she finished howling, Anna Kate sat at the table to eat something. I told her that she better watch out for the roses. That since no one had dropped that other one on the floor, they must be killer roses. They might jump out at any moment and throw themselves on the floor for unsuspecting victims to step on.
She said that she'd heard of that on a commercial. A commercial? Yes, she said, don't trust roses that come in a box. You don't know what they might do. Give a bouquet yourself.
Now we know.