Hey! Stop Shaking My Friend!

I was in the staff lounge, distributing stickers to the grown-ups, when Miss Mercey looked through the window.

"Are those kids shaking that bush?"

In fact, they were.

"I'm on it," I said, and went out to rescue the shrubbery.

"Excuse me, boys, please stop shaking my friend."

What followed was a spirited conversation revolving around the nature of friendship ("You're his friend.  Would you like it if he shook you?"), a brief scientific explanation of xylem and phloem (including references to pipes and nutrition), and the fragility of life in general.

They were 8 and 9 years old, totally engaged in the difference between a messy break (ankles and arms were alluded to) and a clean cut.  One is unplanned and hurtful, the other is necessary and gives us information, like how old is this tree, anyway?

We counted the rings (3) on the recently pruned branch, and commiserated with the torn off leaf ("I'm sorry, but 'he made me do it' doesn't excuse the act").  

We defined and gave examples of stress as we examined a reddish, spotted leaf.  We agreed that living things deserve a chance to be left alone and grow without stress, because .......

We never got to the because; saved by the whistle, they yelled "Bye, Grandma Suzi!" and ran off to get in line. 

That tree has friends for life.  Life is good.