There is a cherry tomato plant in our backyard, and last night Ben decided it was time for the harvest.
Being that this plant has not yeileded much fruit for us, and also that I was trying to make dinner at the same time, I let him pick til there was not a single tomato, red or green, left on those vines.At one point when I checked in on the progress, I saw that Ben was having a hard time holding on to his "bapoos" ("tomatoes", but he's really saying "apples" which is what he thinks they are.) So I got him a bucket for his crops...after I got some footage of his efforts.
"Three under my chin, six in my hands - drat, there goes another!" Finally with a bucket and a height advantage, he managed to gather the rest.
Proudly showing off the fruits of his labor:
Taking a closer look:
I told you he was proud.
Tired feet at the end of a evening in the fields
This might mark the frocs' (fake crocs) final appearance. I'm not sure how to say goodbye to the frubber (fake rubber) shoes that he has worn every. single. day. since that day in May when I forked over that $7.99 at the drugstore. But I am sure it's time.
That'll do shoes, that'll do.
(someone will get that tie in, I just know it...)
3 comments:
Babe! I got it, tied in with the farmers' comments.
I'll never forget when I was there last, after he picked a tomato off and I casually said "we'll bring that to Mommy later." Well, it was straight from there, up the stairs "side!," through the kitchen and down the hallway until he found Momma drying her hair and handed over that little tomato.
Quite the handy gardner, he is.
Well I just can't stand it! The poor little guy is always so hard at work! And those off-label crocs need to somehow be preserved. I still have your first pair of navy blue tennis shoes (Keds)for the same reason. ;-)
Babe right?
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