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I'm into traditions because -- growing up -- I found them to be grounding, nurturing, and oftentimes, well, fun.

Last year on Mother's Day, the kids and I invited my wife into the backyard and surprised her by showing off different plants:  a few kinds of tomatoes, some Japanese eggplant, cucumbers, purple sage, and watermelon in a square patch we dubbed the "Urban Garden." Then, Rocco got really muddy and ChiChi napped under the shade of the lemon tree while I shoveled dirt and we planted the "crop." It was a huge hit with Mom.

And while the watermelon didn't fare so well, the tomatoes wouldn't stop mass producing, and the purple sage became a bush.

So in anticipation of this Mother's Day, I told Rocco and ChiChi that we would plant a vegetable garden on Sunday afternoon. And Rocco said those magic words:

"Oh, like we did last year. That was fun."

This year, we got heirloom tomatoes (such as Cherokee Purple, Green Zebra, among some varieties like Beefsteak and Celebrity), Thai peppers, and artichokes. Rocco got muddy again, I shoveled, and this year, fashion maven ChiChi was resolutely upset that she didn't have a pair of green gardening gloves that fit her. Again, it was a huge hit with Mom.

It doesn't really matter what survives. (Well, O.K., yes it does). Our favorite part is watching it grow, eating the fruits of our labor, and -- for me -- hearing both the kids say "Can we plant some again next Mother's Day?"