This was Sophie’s second year at the Preble County Pork Festival.
But it was Jill and Marty’s first!
In addition to my grandma Gebhart, Jill and Marty, we also had lunch with my uncle Roger and aunt Ellen …
Tom and Katy …
my crazy Dad …
and my mom.
A huge pork chop.
Although Sophie could eat the food this year, she instead drank milk and enjoyed being passed around the table.
Grandpa taught her how to bang her fist on the table. I believe they’re demanding pie.
A peek at pigs.
A walk around the tents.
Petting a baby pig (and of course, wearing the “I petted a pig today” sticker).
And oh boy. A sandbox full of corn.
There were some tears when we dragged her away from this.
Sitting on a bench with Nini helped.
As did sitting on the hearth (and jumping off) at Grandma Gebhart’s house.
Next year maybe she’ll eat a pork chop. (Unless, of course, Uncle Kyle convinces her to become vegetarian.)
“There is poetry in a pork chop to a hungry man.” —Philip Gibbs
