Chloe walked up the hallway towards me at the end of school on Friday.

She (and many of her classmates) was marching with something resembling women’s bathroom refuse in each of her hands.

The long straw with cotton dipped in red and brown paint got closer and closer, “They’re Lorax trees! For Earth Day!” she beamed. I wiped sweat from my back and nodded a big “of course they are” and we proceeded to the minivan.

She held out her hand and flashed open her fingers to reveal six or eight “Lorax tree seeds,” or painted grains of rice as those older than six have been calling them for years.

“Mommy, we can plant these in the backyard with my other trees and they’ll grow Lorax trees!” (Also known as Tampon-Trees to those six and older.)

“Great idea!”

When we arrived home, Chloe ran to her room and placed the seeds on one of her shelves. When she fell asleep last night, the Lorax Tree Fairy removed the seeds and placed them in a container with a lid and tucked them into a kitchen cupboard.

The Lorax Tree Fairy knows if a child doesn’t ask about things like painted rice for at least two weeks, the universe gives her permission to throw them away plant them on a Lorax Tree farm far, far away.

This morning, Chloe ran to me and said, “Hanna took my seeds!”

Seriously Hanna! What is the matter with you?

I retrieved the seeds and realized they were important to Chloe so back they went on her shelf until prime Lorax Tree planting conditions were present in the soil—fourteen days without rain, presence of cotton, high probability of rainbow sightings.

It was actually all pretty adorable until we walked into the grocery store today and Chloe held out four Lorax tree seeds she had found in her coat pocket–the coat pocket with the small hole in it. We couldn’t risk losing the seeds so I grabbed a plastic bag used for fresh produce and told her to place the seeds in the bag until we got home.

When we got to the check-out, there was one remaining bag in our cart that I hadn’t planned on ringing in.

The lady behind the counter said, “Oh, I see there’s one more bag.”

Um, those are Lorax tree seeds?

“I’m sorry, pardon?”

Those are Lorax tree seeds.

I could see her checking her Rolodex of bulk food codes to see if whatever I had mumbled might closely resemble something she was going to key in.

I know she thought I was trying to steal four or five flax seeds or a pinch of quinoa. Lady, do you know how much F’n quinoa I have at home?????

I couldn’t say what they really were—painted grains of rice, because Chloe believed they were going to grow us real tampon-trees and I too was curious to see what jumbo or super-slim fruit they might bear.

I held up the bag (it looked empty) and said proudly, “These are my daughter’s Lorax tree seeds. We’re planting them in our yard.” (I was really hoping she would just charge me for the rice she thought I had stolen—and had time to paint while shopping for three minutes)

She let us go without any further embarrassment other than taking my picture to post on the store wall with a big sign that says, “Watch this one. She’s a loon.”