My mom got a masters in Horticulture, she raises orchids for fun, breeds her own African violets, and has a whole collection of plants that she does amazing things with, so, in our family, she was the plant grower. She planned the vegetable garden, though we all worked in it to some extent. Kathy has mini roses, which are pretty tough to take care of. So the whole family has something of a green thumb.
But Mom was always kind of considered the be-all and end-all of plants, and when she pronounced that pepper plants always die indoors it was the voice of doom. It lost all its leaves while John and I were on our cruise while Mom was taking care of it. But, perversely, I took as good a care of the remaining stick as I could even when it 'should' have died, and the fact that it's now about two feet tall, bushy, green and leafy has somehow become a reflection of the fact that I am my own person.
Growing and healthy despite pronounciations of doom.