I never thought I'd find myself contemplating the merits of ceramic flora, yet here I was, standing in my sister's nursery, surrounded by an army of mint-colored flowers mounted on the walls like trophies from some pastel war. "It's the November birth flower," Amy declared, as if that explained everything. I nodded, pretending to understand why anyone would want a chrysanthemum, let alone a fake one, plastered to their wall. But in the world of nursery room accessories, logic seemed to have taken a permanent vacation. "Don't you think it's a bit... much?" I ventured, gesturing at the veritable garden sprouting from the drywall. She looked at me as if I'd suggested painting the baby puce. "It's modern artwork," she said, her tone suggesting I was some sort of Neanderthal for questioning her design choices. I thought about pointing out that modern typically implied some sort of progress, not a regression to decorating with items one might find in a grandmother's attic. But I bit my tongue, realizing that in the realm of nursery wall decor, my opinion ranked somewhere between the lamp and the diaper pail. As I stared at the mint monstrosity, I couldn't help but wonder if the baby would grow up thinking flowers naturally came with mounting brackets. It seemed a small price to pay for being born in November.