Two years ago, as a labor of love for the Insta-Princess, I smuggled some cactus seeds out of Arizona and back to Kansas City. “She’ll adore them,” I thought. “She can hug ’em and love ’em and squeeze ’em and call them George.” Except, those poor seeds sat on our kitchen counter for two years. Whatever mothering instincts would eventually tickle her hormones, well, they weren’t there yet, or they didn’t make an appearance for our good friend, The Cactus.  I probably should have stuck with a t-shirt, but I thought that i’d give her something more interesting to throw at me should we ever get angry.  (We don’t.  We’re perfect.  Angels, really.)

This past week, and with her permission, I decided to reclaim these desert dwellers for myself. I just can’t stand to see a toy go to waste.  Besides, seduced by the advertisement on the package:

I wanted to raise my own happy cactus family. Look at them! Who knew cactuses could be so much fun? They grin and show their pearly whites with abandon; they can swing their arms and, I’m guessing here, but it looks like the tall one can sing. Imagine that, my own prickly Partridge family.

Thus far, I have to admit I’m a wee bit disappointed. I mean, it’s only been a week, and I know they’ve been waiting two years for their chance on stage, but the sprouts don’t reflect what’s on the packaging. Take a gander:

Do you see eyes? A mouth? Little waving arms? A drum set or a guitar? Exactly. I mean, maybe the band doesn’t get together until puberty, but I’m starting to suspect I got ripped-off. I thought maybe, just maybe, my singing saguaros could open up for Softee. (Softee and I have a history. Love, heartbreak, being a roadie, attempt to sacrifice me to their bloodthirsty gods of Rock and maybe Roll… either that or they just wanted me to stop hounding them for autographs. I don’t hold it against them, though. But, still, a connection I hoped to exploit.)

I’m not a neglectful parent. I’ll still raise the cactus–even if only one of the five sprouts survives to maturity. I’ll call that one “Spinycus”. Or, “Kirk” for short.