Marshmallow Picking

Have you ever been marshmallow picking? You haven’t? Shocking. It is a rare experience when the marshmallows come out to bloom. They are only ripe for such a short period of time that you may miss them all together. They really only bloom for a day, and then they are gone, so you need to act quick. Marshmallow picking is such a fun and whimsical idea. I wish I could take credit myself. We get to give credit, this time, to my dad.

My dad has a creative mind and the spirit of a child. You need to know my dad to imagine him saying to my kids, “We should go out and pick some boysenberries. They are ready. I think the marshmallows are ready to be picked now too.” I get just as delighted as my kids in moments like this. The kids all journeyed outside to enjoy the picking experience. Corban did have to be convinced a bit because he was playing with cars, but we finally got him outside. We hit the boysenberry bushes first and got quite a crop.

The real excitement came when we arrived at the marshmallow bush with marshmallows stuck at the ends of the sticks of the pruned back bush. The kids got really excited about it. He has all of the grandkids convinced that marshmallows do, indeed, grow on trees. One of my older nieces said, “Grandpa, I don’t think this is true. You buy marshmallows at the store, so I don’t think they grow on trees.” My dad simply replied, “Well, you buy apples at the store? Where do you think apples grow?” End of conversation.

I know some of you have a different opinion about this whole concept, and I totally respect that. There are parents out there that don’t want to do Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny or Marshmallow Trees. They want to make sure their kids can always trust them to tell the truth. They don’t want to compromise that trust by not being honest with their kids in all circumstances. I really do understand that point of view and have considered it for our family. When it comes down to it, I grew up in a family with a dad who obviously had a creative imagination. My parents let us believe in the whimsical creatures of childhood fantasy. I quite liked the experience. I remember the anticipation and vivid imagination I had as I considered the possibilities. I still trusted my parents. I still felt very safe and didn’t question the bigger things in life because they let me enjoy some of the imagination of childhood. I didn’t become bitter because they had lied to me all these years. For me, it was fun. It was part of being a child. It was part of dreaming. I respect those who think differently, but for our family, I think we’ll keep marshmallow picking.