I was reading C Jane’s blog this morning, the one entitled What the World Needs, and this is what she wrote as the caption of the photograph:
“Less child labor in industry, more child labor at home.”
I couldn’t agree with her more.
In fact yesterday of all days I had my children outside in the front yard helping me pick pecans off the ground under our glorious pecan trees. Yes, I know, “Saturday is a special day…it’s the day we get ready for Sunday…we work and work and work and work so we can rest all day Sunday.” But look, these are pecans we’re talking about here. Big, sweet, and free pecans and they must be gathered before the squirrels get to them all!
Now for a pronunciation lesson: Pecans are pronounced “puh-CONS” never “PEE-cans!” Pee-cans is what my grand-daddy relieved himself in. I should know–I used to live in Pecan Capitol of the World: San Saba, Texas.
Thank you for minding that bit of Know-It-All-ism.
Truthfully, I could tell the boys enjoyed picking the pecans with me. I don’t think they see it as child labor at home at all…yet. Perhaps in a few more years. One by one we filled a large metal bowl with all the pecans we could stand picking for the afternoon, took them inside, and I made some of my famous pecan pie. Well, famous if you’ve ever eaten it before. So famous in fact that I used to sell my pecan pies in college to the guys up the road from my dorm at Ricks College (er BYU-Idaho cause they decided to change names after I’d been there a year already).
That’s right Forrest, the secret to my $6 pecan pies is on my recipe blog. Make some of it for old times sake. But please, oh please:
Do not call it a pee-can pie.
