My G-ma, in Canada, has the most delicious raspberry patch. It is one of the things that I truly miss from the great white north, which is why G-ma's jam is really special to me. Scratch that, it's almost sacred.
This year G-ma was kind enough to give us 7 jars of home made raspberry jam. I can hear the choir of angels now. Since this jam is so dear to my heart I usually do not waste it on Ethnie since she can hardly tell the difference. But one day she spotted me spreading that sweet jam on my toast and asked for some. I told her she had her own toast but she insisted on trying Mama's.
And she was hooked. It's hard not to be, I mean this is after all some of the best jam ever, and Ethnie could not get enough of it. Once she finished her toast, she held up her spoon shouting "MOA! MOA!" (more, more) and rubbed her little tummy (please) as fast as she could. I'm very grateful for this little moments that bring generations together. Something as simple and delicious as jam. Thank you G-ma. We really appreciate it!
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