Really! Julies eyes shone. What?
What? echoed Brian.
Marshmallows, I said, as though Id said it every summer. Last night Daddy and I walked down toward the lake and it looks as though theyre just about ready to pick. Its a good thing were here now. They only come out one day a year.
Julie looked skeptical, and Brian giggled. Youre silly, Mom! Marshmallows come in bags from the store.
I shrugged. So do blackberries, but youve picked those, havent you? Somebody just puts them in bags.
Daddy, is that true? He demanded.
Bob was very busy turning pancakes. Guess youll just have to go find out for yourself, he answered. Okay!
They were off in a flurry, little metal buckets reflecting the morning sun.
You nut, Bob said to me, laughing. It wont work.
Be a believer, I answered.
Minutes later our two excited children rushed into the clearing.
Look! I got some that were just babies! Julie held up a miniature.
I picked the big ones! said Brian. Boy, I want to cook one! Light the fire, Daddy, quick!
All right, all right, settle down. Bob winked at me. They wont spoil. He lit some small sticks while the kids ran for their hot dog forks.
Mine will be better because theyre so little, predicted Julie. Brian shrugged, mashing two large ones on his fork.
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