My two small joys are pictured below engaged in one of our annual traditions: picking blueberries at a local farm. The first time we went my #1 grandson was 4 years old. He couldn't shove the organic sun-warmed, bush-ripened, sweet berries into his mouth fast enough! Now, at the ripe old age of 7, he delights in filling his bucket and showing his 3 year old brother the ropes. This year's conversation as we went down the long rows of heavily laden berry bushes went something like this:
Me (otherwise known as Nonni) to 3 year old grandson: Braydon, what do you want to do with all these berries when we take them home?
Braydon: Nonni! You know! Make apple pie.
I can see I still need to discuss fruits.