When I was little I loved mashed potatoes. The fall when I was learning how to talk we went to visit my grandmother and the first night we were there it snowed. The next morning she took me outside and couldn't believe how excited I was about the snow. When we got out the door I squealed, "Tatoes! Tatoes!" because I was convinced the world was covered in mashed potatoes. (My grandma laughed so hard she almost dropped me.)
I probably sounded just as excited this afternoon when I saw that some of my potato plants had sprouted.
(and that we have a tiny cucumber. isn't it the prettiest little pickle you've ever seen?)