***Check out my July column***
Yesterday, we ventured out into an organic strawberry patch to pick some fruit. About halfway there, I realized the folly of this idea because:
a.) I am 8.5 months pregnant--might there be a worse activity out there than one that requires constant bending, squatting and picking in 90 degree heat?
b.) My toddler has no clue what she is doing and may very well hate it.
c.) Who pays for the "privilege" of doing what union organizers are fighting to help migrant workers stop doing? (perhaps a future post on stuff white people like)
Even with all my fear, I was shocked at how much fun we had. Yes, it was hot and a tad uncomfortable, but Sam-Sam loved it. She loved bending, finding the fruit, pulling it off and putting it in her little basket. And she loved eating it, too.
She filled up her little quart and then proceeded to bite the ends off of each and every strawberry in her basket. The juice soaked her chin, her hands and her white hat and pants (bad fashion choices for the activity), but it was so cute, I had to let her. She loved it with the same fervor she loved hunting for Easter Eggs. And why not? All of her favorite activities, including bending and picking, finding, putting things in a basket and seeing big kids play were included.
And although it was hot and sticky and messy, it was the best kind of afternoon, the kind that makes me shake my head in wonder. Sometimes it is hard to believe that I am now living a life where I can take my kid strawberry picking on a beautiful Wed. afternoon with my sister and follow that up with a chocolate milkshake from the best ice cream parlor in town.
Please do not pinch me.