Raising babies in the age of instant ain’t always what it’s cracked up to be. We make instant oatmeal, popcorn and meals in a matter of seconds. We use our microwave daily and the result is a generation of impatient little people that haven’t a clue how to live without the radiation machine that I have a love hate relationship with. Having said that, we put forth an effort in our home to make sure we also explain that eggs don’t come from Eggland and cantaloupes don’t magically appear in Food Lion.
So it’s always a pleasure to hang out with their paternal grandparents for a strong dose of good old fashion country living. My husband grew up in Windsor, NC, a small town not far from the coast. His family still lives there and his daddy, now retired takes pride in planting acres full of fruit trees, corn, grapes and a host of good eating…way too much to name.
Like most Labor Days we spent the holiday soaking up the sun and a home cooked meal at their home. One of highlights aside from the food is letting all the children run amuck. Yup, it’s one of the few times I don’t restrict what they drink or eat. I don’t even require shoes for outdoor play. I know, I know, it’s contrary to my normal routine, but it breaks the monotony and creates memories for us all.
Now that the children are a little older (4 and 2) granddaddy’s fruit trees are on their radar and despite their height they were determined to find a way to taste what up until now he has restricted. “You can pick em’ now,” he said. “They’re good and ready.”
“Mommy, can you help me,” Morgan begged. “Granddaddy said we can pick pears, but I can’t reach them.” “I love pears,” she said. Little did she know I had already eaten my fair share the night before. But I show her a set of outside chairs right beside the tree and suggest that she figure out a way to work with her brother to get what they want.
She’s not quite tall enough even on her tiptoes in the chair to tug the pears off the tree without losing her balance. But she’s just the right height to knock them to the ground and ask her brother to pick them up and put them in a plastic grocery bag for their consumption as a nighttime snack for the coming week.
And so I back up and I watch them work hard for the next 15 minutes right before dark to pick their own fruit that their granddaddy planted in his yard. At this moment there is no instant, there is only the realization that moments like these are important to me and I pray they are important to our children. At this moment I am grateful for fruit bearing trees and smart loving grandparents that have the wisdom to plant them.