It’s March here in Florida, which, for most people means Spring Break.

For us here in Plant City, it means strawberry season.

And strawberry season means The Strawberry Festival!

It’s kind of a big deal.

HUGE.

People wear rhinestoned strawberry shirts. Kids get dressed up in strawberry dresses and headbands. There’s a court and a Queen.

And the debate on whether you should put a biscuit or shortcake underneath your Strawberry Shortcake? It can get ugly. (BTW, shortcake ALL. THE. WAY. over here)

Before we had kids, we avoided it like the plague.

Tourist attraction.

Traffic.

Crowds.

Three of my husband’s least favorite things.

The first year I took Emma by myself since Eric was out of town for work. We watched her older cousin dance. And she wore these adorable pajamas:

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Emma 2013

The next year, Addie was a baby so baby carrier all the way. Plus, I had to get “matching” pictures of both girls in their strawberry jammies.

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Addie 2014

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Ferris Wheel ride= sun right in the face of the baby. #parentingwin

 

The next year, my parents joined us. Addie had just turned a year old and demanded to try some of my “Memomade” aka lemonade. I told her she would hate it, it was bitter and let her try it. Little shit drank the whole thing.  And is STILL obsessed with “Memomade.”

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2015

This year, I met my mom and her friend there, we HAD to get a lemonade and ride the ferris wheel, but I also got this adorable side-by-side picture of my girls.

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What a difference a year makes.

 

In Plant City, we do strawberries. And we do them well.

Can’t wait for next year!