Blood Pressure Blowout!

I have a little friend named Owen. He and his mother were swimming last summer. (Actually, his mother was swimming while Owen watched from from his safe house, a nifty little tent that sits stationary on the deck of the pool) I had just gotten out of the lake from a training swim and thought I'd take the kids to the pool to let them splash around a bit. So I'm sitting there, on the edge, life-guarding my fish-ies and I notice this girl swimming laps. And I mean, swimming, with a purpose. Of course, this motivates me to ask her what she was training for. I wouldn't be me if I wasn't always in people's faces about running and multi-sport events, right? So, she tells me she's thinking about doing a triathlon but that she's a little afraid to actually do one because she might like it too much and then she'll want to keep doing them. "Hmmm", I thought to myself..."I better help her out and make sure she has a good experience." (I'm just pushy that way.) Anyway, long story short...I basically forced her to join me in some of my training. I bossed her around plenty for a couple of weeks and on race day she rocked the course and wants to continue racing. Yeah! But now, much to her husbands chagrin, I still try (where were you this morning Beth?)to make her workout with me even in the dead of winter... well before the crack of dawn and at all hours of the day. (Sometimes, we even do boring old pilates!) And this, my dear friends, brings us to the whole point of this long-winded dialogue...Sweet little Owen, who, apparently loves plants, found his way to my very fake ficus tree yesterday just after his mom and I got done riding our bikes. (Yes, I even made her bring her bike over and I hooked it up to the trainer and made her ride. I'm just mean that way.) So, I say to Owen, that he's not in for much of a tasty treat and maybe he should consider an alternate food source. To which he replies "Why, thank you, you kind and thoughtful angel. Perhaps you might offer me some tea and crumpets." Not really! He's only 13 months old and has chosen not to share much verbiage with me yet and I'm certain he doesn't have a British accent either but he did give me a very pensive look. But Ty, (I can always count on Ty) became very concerned for Owen's well-being, not concerned enough to stop snatching toys away, mind you, but he says to me with his hands waving in the air for emphasis "Oh no! If Owen eats that plant, he'll die and his blood pressure will go way out!"

It was funny, to say the least, but to that I say..."Huh?"