i hate apple pie

He has been begging us, and I mean BEGGING us to go apple picking again this year. Not next week, not when his friends can go along, I want to go... now. So we went.

And he didn't just want to pick a basket of apples, he wanted to pick them all. "Just a few more Dada, just a few more."  He skipped along the rows of trees chirping about all the things we would make with our apples.  Apple sauce, apple pie, apple pancakes.

And we got home with our pounds and pounds of apples, and Dada made crust from scratch (a big deal by the way for the cooking impaired). And Zach made whipped cream from scratch. And he picked all of the ingredients and chriped and skipped about the boat as the apple pie was baking. And then the moment of truth came... and he didn't eat his pie. He sheepishly picked at the whipped cream and moved it around his plate the way kids do to make it seem as though they have eaten something.

"Buddy, what's wrong?"

"I hate apple pie."

It wasn't that he did't like THIS apple pie, he doesn't like any apple pie. Or apple sauce. Or apple pancakes. You see where I'm going here? Flabbergasted I asked why on earth he asked, no INSISTED we pick all those apples if he wasn't going to eat any of the things we could make from them?

"I love being out in the trees picking stuff .And I love reading the apple pie book. I just love it all... except the eating part. But you love apple pie and I love baking with you, so it's all good. I just like that we do this every year together. And now Naia gets to do it too. I didn't want her to miss it."

And there it is. In a family where we've given up on daily rhythm, and struggle through with a loose weekly rhythm, I guess through the years we have managed to nail the seasonal rhythm thing. Apples are part of his September. And part of hers too... for now.

And now my heart is filled with his words. And my belly stuffed with apple pie.