Strawberry and watermelon creamy yogurt pops

Did I men­tion we went straw­berry pick­ing last week­end? Between the three of us, we col­lected so many straw­ber­ries it took Dan half of his Sat­ur­day night clean­ing and hulling the berries to ready them for freez­ing. Then Scar­lett and I went back the next day. The trip yielded the same amount of berries but, for Scar­lett, the nov­elty of the pick­ing had worn off. As I crouched down to the plants, she stood over me, swing­ing our bas­ket around her knees, fling­ing per­fect berry spec­i­mens into the dry dirt. Then she started doing that thing she does when she’s totally impa­tient but try­ing des­per­ately not to whine since she knows it will make me upset. So instead she slows her words down to a snails pace and, with­out tak­ing a sin­gle breathe, rains her every thought down on me in one sin­gle, grat­ing sen­tence. “Mom­m­m­mmy, When can we pleeeeease go home?I’m soooooooo hot!Plus my leg is reeeeeeeeeealy itchy.Do you think I have a rash?I can’t stop scratching.Did you bring any bandaids.Uh,oh! I have to go to the bath­room sooooooo much.” 

To keep her dis­tracted and some­what in the game I turned on my phone’s ipod and played “You Don’t know You’re Beau­ti­ful.” by One Direc­tion. In other words, I was that obnox­ious per­son in the field.

I froze most of my berries but I also kept some fresh to make a few recipes for the last week of school. Thank good­ness I made these yogurt pops because that last week ended up being so oppres­sively hot and humid. One after­noon I brought my cool treats to pick-up and we sat with friends in the play­ground enjoy­ing them. My girl­friend said they tasted like a break­fast smoothie on a stick and she was right. All the kids loved them except the one boy with the elec­tric blue tongue and lips. After enjoy­ing a slushie from the ice cream truck but still com­plain­ing he was hot and hun­gry, he wouldn’t even try my drippy treat because he said  “They looked too healthy.” I just liked the fact that I didn’t have any remorse after fin­ish­ing three.