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The other day I was doing my little agricultural thing, going to the u-pick to gather delicious fresh BC strawberries. It was a weekday, so my willing slave and I were the only adults there of working/childbearing age who didn’t have a bunch of little kiddies with us.
A couple of rows over, a child starts wailing and screaming. She’s tired of this picking business. Waah, waah, waah, and making noises that you didn’t know a human could make.
In my row, concentrating on getting at the ripest, most lovely strawberries, I think to myself, “I’m sure glad someone else has to deal with the little screamer.”