I have this strange thing with names. I LOVE to name things, like cars, for example. My current car is named Herman Churchill. The car before that was Herbert Cromwell. Don't know why. They just fit. I just love naming things.

I got a plant in college at the Agriculture Club (I went to NDSU - North Dakota State - my first three years...) plant sale one year. I was so excited to have a plant. Something living to take care of. Mind you, I do not have the best record keeping green things alive (I got cactus when I first went to college, thinking I could most definitely handle that - yeah, killed them all...). And of course, I named it. Copernicus. Don't know why. It just fit. And stuck. The plant has been living here at home with my parents since I have been slightly transient the past few years. But it's still hanging in there, which is cool.

This morning, I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, and L was happily playing with her little jumping station - she loves to stand at it now and play with the toys on top. She was also jingling the little bells that hang in Copernicus, since he resides directly behind the jumping station deal. I could hear her and I kept checking in on her, jingling those little bells. All of a sudden it was quiet. Never a good sign. So I peeked my head over the counter from the sink, and....

...well, this isn't EXACTLY what I saw...when I looked around the counter, the plant was on it's side, with L sitting right next to the pile of dirt. She must of pulled hard enough on the bell to pull the plant over!

But then. Just wait. I took her down for her morning nap, got ready myself and when I came back upstairs, this is what I found....