When my brother and I were younger my parents would take us to Martha’s Vineyard for a week or two in the summer. One summer they told us they had such an awesome activity planned. We were all gonna spend the day at these gardens. The “Toy Gardens.”

Reeeaalllly. Silly trickster parents. My brother and I were immediately suspicious.

And they foolishly kept mentioning it.

“Two days till the Toy Gardens kiddoes!”

“Are you guys excited for the Toy Gardens?”

Uh huh. Right.

“Yes Mom and Dad, we are both so excited for these toy garden things. Tells us more. Are there toys all over in them? We just can’t wait for all the toys.” My brother and I practiced our new-found eye-narrowing talents while waiting, arms crossed for the answer. Which came from a somewhat deflated mom.

“Oh. Well, no. There aren’t any toys, it’s spelled T-O-I Gardens…”

“That should be pronounced ‘Twah’ Gardens then. It’s French.” I was a bit of a know-it-all snob. Back then. Not now.

“Well actually it’s Japanese too. And in Japanese it’s pronounced ‘toy’. And don’t interrupt.”

“So we’re going to some Japanese Gardens? What makes ‘em Japanese?”

“Well, maybe there’ll be some ponds with really big goldfish called coy…”

“Does everything rhyme in Japanese?”

“No, and don’t interrupt. And some of their gardens will just have rocks and no plants. Rocks and some sand and…other rocks.”

“Just. Rocks. So we’re going to spend the day at a ‘garden’ of rocks. And goldfish. And no toys. Wonderful.”

Funny thing is, I’d really like to visit those gardens now.