When I popped into Erin's blog this morning I thought, "How refreshing to see someone say that there is no way her kids would pick a ton of strawberries in the boiling heat without all of them ending up frustrated." And then I swore I would give up on the idea of Jack and I picking berries this year.
Except 5 minutes later he was in the kitchen kicking me and calling me a damn stupid poopy mommy.
Ok then. We had better go visit Farmer Karl after all.
It started out promising enough, Jack was so cute asking why we were in the "meadow", and asking what those noises were (crickets).
But do not be fooled. This was not some idyllic trip to the local farm where my child romped through the fields, stuffing his face with berries warm from the sunshine while I snapped perfect photographs and soaked up the beauty of it all.
Oh no. No siree Bob. This was us being told by Farmer Karl that pickins' were slim and that it was so hot we were going to be boiled down there. This is us traipsing WAY down to the lower field in the blazing hot sun desperately hunting for a few decent berries. This is Jack picking three strawberries and declaring that he was done with this stupid poopy "cherry" picking. This is Jack spitting out the only strawberry he let pass his lips while declaring it disgusting. This is us practically passing out from heat stroke after only 20 minutes in that field.
That's ok, I'll just eat them all myself. (The 1 lb I managed to pick, LOL.)
I didn't name this blog The Misadventures of Mama & Jack for nothing you know.