One of my all-time favorite books to read with kids is Mr. Putter and Tabby Pick the Pears, by Cynthia Rylant. I love the characters and the story line, plus the fact that no actual pears are picked.
Nick and Henry got to have their own pear-picking adventure last weekend. Grandpa Ray has asked the fire department across the street from their house if its okay to pick pears from their trees. The fireman do not mind in the least. So we went on a quest to pick pears. I was worried that the boys wouldn't be able to reach any pears (like poor Mr. Putter in the story) but these pear trees were perfectly sized.
Nick and Henry went crazy picking the nicest, ripest pears. The hardest part was preventing Henry from taking a bite from each one. Grandpa Ray had lots of helpful pear picking advice.
They really did fill a whole wagon!
I wish we'd gotten more--I'm now dreaming of pear butter and pear cake and pear muffins. My kids have eaten at least 3 pears each per day since last Saturday.
Now if only we'd had a slingshot. . . (Sorry, this reference only makes sense if you've read the story.)