Strawberry fields forever
Small Boy loves strawberries. When his Grossmütti comes on Thursday afternoons, she always brings a jar of strawberries for him to eat that afternoon and another jar for reserve. Sunday lunch at their place always ends with a huge bowl of strawberries for the Small Boy and we are given at least one jar to take home with us. These are not just any strawberries. These are strawberries fresh from the farm that Grossmütti picked for Small Boy over the summer and was so upset that I wasn't letting him eat the red berries yet but wanted to wait until he was older (since they can trigger alergic reactions in the first year). I'm sure my in-laws think R. and I (well, mostly I) are too cautious in the introduction of new foods, but they humor us and respect our wishes. But Grossmütti had so been looking forward to Small Boy eating his farm fresh berries. It's one of the small pleasures of farm life that she wants to share with him. The thought of Small Boy living a strawberry-less life upset her terribly. So she froze them. And froze them and froze them and froze them. To his sticky, messy, sweet-smelling delight, Small Boy has a seemingly endless supply of soft sweet strawberries floating in juice.
Life is sweet.
Labels: about a boy
1 Comments:
How wonderful to have a farm fresh berries, even if they are frozen. How lucky he is to have such a great grandmother close by!
On a different note, I entirely related to your post about words--I too am talkative, and I notice Bean is in reply. He babbles a lot, always has. I know exactly what you meant by having entire conversations with your son. I do that too. I wonder if its a cultural thing or a personality thing to NOT talk with your small child? What do you think?
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