Today, a 14-year-old boy asked if he could sniff my pickles.
I didn't know whether to slap him, kiss him, or call his mother. Then his brother explained that "he does this all the time." Turns out our favorite 14-year-old farm volunteer is a self-professed pickle sniffer. To the extent that, when he spotted the pickles in my sammage from the opposite side of the picnic table, he was unable to call off any little voices in his head that may have cautioned him otherwise, and hollered out, for everyone to hear, "Jen, can I sniff your pickles?"
I handed one over. And asked him to please keep it.