My plants are basically my kids—minus the college tuition and the backtalk. Sometimes I wonder if they know they’re black too; maybe that’s why they lean into the sunlight with so much attitude! They don’t drink coffee like their momma, but let me show up with fertilizer and watch the leaves perk up like, “Is that Miracle-Gro or Henny?” Honestly, plants are better than kids: they don’t ask for the Wi-Fi password, never leave their shoes in the hallway, and if they start acting up, you just give them a little water and a pep talk. It’s a backyard cookout every day—me bringing the drinks, them bringing that lush, green energy. Let’s be real, my monstera’s got more chill than any toddler I’ve ever met!