the innocent apples hung quietly from the tree,
behaving themselves, like all good apples should be.
In an epic fail on my part this morning, David's snack ended up all over the floor. We were rushing out the door to get to school and trying to figure out a quick alternative. We decided on chips. Which, of course, lead to complaints by Kate who always has to bring innocent apples.
I'm not entirely sure what innocent apples are either, but we put our heads together and agreed on the first part of the poem.
The rest, not so much.
David wants a farmer to come along to try to chop down the tree with an axe. The apples would not sit quietly against the dying of the tree, but would fight and attack the farmer, seeking their revenge. There was a lot of blood and guts in his version, of the farmer and the apples.
Kate was thinking that the apples would absolutely love to be made into a delicious apple pie, enjoyed by everyone. With ice cream. And maybe some whip cream.
It's funny how something as innocent as apples can turn into an epic battle against a farmer or something as delicious as apple pie, depending on who you ask.