Raspberry Time

Tomorrow morning as soon as my son wakes up I think I shall kidnap him and take him raspberry picking. I normally go with my girls who are all day dedicated pickers. They pick quickly and efficiently and don't stop until the baskets are full. My son is more of a.....let's say a connoisseur.  He believes that in order to really appreciate the bounty that is being picked, one must sample the goodness. And often.  His basket is usually mostly empty.  I am determined to change all that tomorrow. I need a good raspberry picker! Raspberry picking is kind of a thankless endless job.  The raspberries are SO small and squishy and fragile. It feels like you pick for days and days and every time you look into your basket, there is still a long long way to go.  The problem is of course - I LOVE raspberries. I could never have enough raspberries. I Love love love love them. Mmmmmmm. They are so good.  I dream of having a gigantic big popcorn size bowl full of raspberries sitting on my lap as I endlessly pop each delicious berry into my mouth. So I am going to take my son with me. I am going to see if I can get him to assist in the monumental task of filling several flats of raspberries.  Perhaps I will say something like I won't share any of the berries that I pick unless he also has a full basket. We all know that isn't true of course.  My son will also know that isn't true. I am fairly certain that tactic will not work. In the end - what will happen is what always happens.  I will pick and pick and pick. My son will ask if I am done yet.  My son will actually take raspberries out of my basket to eat instead of picking them off the bush.  I will finally get enough berries and I will be completely red from head to toe. I will put the berries in my car and start the long drive home. Then I will scream in shock as my son will have consumed half the berries before we get in the driveway. Yes - it is raspberry time. I believe I am ready.