Poppets Promises

A few months back, Charlotte came home from Day Care with a pot. In that pot there was dirt. And in that dirt, there were promises of greatness.
Weeks later: nothing doing.
"What should we do with this?" the wife asked, turning her nose up at the the dry dirt in a pretty little vase.
"Water it!" I replied.
We did, and Jack's beans began to sprout.
This morning: (after weeks of guessing).
"Check it out-Tig has grown her first flower."