Last week I took the boys to the outdoor market and we LOADED UP on every type of fruit and veggie (see previous post for reference to my recent produce addiction). Out of everything we bought, the one thing that we couldn't WAIT to dive into was a perfect little half-pint of perfectly tart blackberries. (Don't your cheeks hurt just thinking about them?) I could hardly get us all buckled into the Volvo before cracking open that little plastic box. Trying desperately to save some for Daddy, who was at home working on the computer, I carefully rationed out 6 berries per hungry mouth and we were on our way. Soon, I hear Cole:
"I'm saving two."
Reese: "I'm saving three."
Cole, frantic: "I'm saving four..."
I peek in the rearview and see the two boys looking at the little berries in their hands, at each other, and back at their berries. Finally Cole, in an act of desperation, blurts out, "Oh, Reese, we can't play Midnight Meatball anymore, remember? Let's just eat them, okay? I'm going to eat mine, are you going to eat yours? Let's just eat them."
Wowza. Can you just imagine what those little berries would have looked like hidden under the pillows?