Strawberry picking is a great yearly event for us, excluding that moment when I realize I’ve voluntarily put myself in a field with buckets to pick berries with 2 children and a baby strapped to my chest.
Then I feel the breeze, look up at the sky, and think, this is my job. Holy cow, life is good.
Realization: Based on Holly’s strawberry picking outfit, it could be the case that I’ve trained my children to want to wear costumes every day. We’re participators.
Later that afternoon, when we were all stuffed with strawberries, I noticed the box of vegetables that we picked up at Froberg’s and executed an overly dramatic hair flip while saying, “oh I have to get a picture of this for our blog.”
I felt so hip (insert high schooler rolling her eyes- “if you have to say it’s hip, it’s not hip”) with a box of locally grown veggies in the kitchen, yet much less so while eating turnips for dinner.
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