Poised on his tippy toes, so that he might better see the plants no longer out of this reach, Lucas deliberately, if slightly wobbly, turns my old Nathan’s water bottle upside down, hovers it over a teal succulent (teal barely getting within the ballpark of the ocular riches yielded up, or, to put the matter better, freely given to those who take the time to actually look at the damn thing) in a faded baby blue elephant pot, dipping its nozzle down as though to drink up, but really to water down. The fact that the bottle was already empty disturbed neither Lucas nor the succulent one bit.