Frosted Milk, Temequila (through the eyes of a toddler)

My mom woke up early to take me to the farmer's market this weekend. Dad was home recovering from a sprained back muscle.

I have to say, the farmer's market experience with mom is very different from the market visits with Daddy. For one, dad doesn't care how many samples I try. I load up on about 6 or 7 slices of peaches, fistfull bunches of blueberries and all the peach cobbler samples my belly can handle.

When mom comes along, she HOVERS me. She always says stuff like, one sample per station, use a new toothpick for each sample, don't run up to the vendor stations, walk nicely and other stuff.

Dad promises to take me next week. That's a good thing because a kid like me needs to roam free, enjoy the atmosphere and take it all in.

I came to my favorite tasting station. The owner and I are on first name basis. He asked where my dad was and all I could do was point to my mom as if to say, she's my chaperone today. She almost freaked out when the owner handed me a sample cup. He had to reassure her that all the drinks were NON-alcoholic. Whew, close call. As if I would drink alcohol. I'm like 3 years old. I know better!





We finished off our visit at Starbucks with a FROSTED milk complete with whipped cream and sprinkles! AH, this made up for the sample rations back at the market!

Life is good! Yum!!!