Sunday, I went with Julia on a short tour of the organic farm outside Northfield where she and Shannon had gone tomato-picking the other week. I was hesitant to go, since it meant giving up a whole afternoon with Genevieve, whom I see for a maximum of three hours every weekday.
But happily, Julia made it worthwhile by being hilarious and interested in almost the entire event. Whenever the tour got boring (discussions of recipes for Swiss chard), she stage-whispered something to me: "Where are all their animals? Why is there so much dirt? What smells like sauce?" (This question came while we walked down a row of basil - a key ingredient, of course in pasta sauce.) And most importantly, "Can I drive the tractor?" Turns out, she could.
The best moment of the tour came just after we looked at the farm's burgeoning tomato vines. We'd been nibbling on the cherry tomatoes as we walked, heeding one of the tour leader's instructions to pick some lest they spoil and go to waste. We paused to look at another crop, and when I turned around, Julia had sidled back to the chery tomatoes and started eating them by the handful. Everyone laughed, and she grinned happily, tomato juice running down her face. Later, as we picked some to take home, she told me, "Daddy, I already had five tomatoes, but I have to make sure this one is okay." Pop! Down the hatch it went. You can't really fault a kid for "sneaking" cherry tomatoes.