Wolfman saw the marigold pots sitting in the window this morning and was wondering where the flowers were. So I told him:
The pots are pregnant with the seeds, like how mommy was with his little brother. The seeds we planted are being fed by the water and the sunlight, kept warm and safe by the dirt. The flower will be born when green is seen poking up through the dirt. Like him, the flower will become a baby, a toddler, a kid, a teen, and then finally when it blooms, an adult. Then it'll get old and eventually return to the earth. Next year, the process will start all over again. Life reborn from the seeds planted. Fed by the water and sun, kept warm and safe by the dirt.
I don't know how much of that he understood, but he sure did listen. Said it was a "bebe" still.