Monday, October 27, 2008

Pumpkin punched


Since October of 2003, I have had all intentions of making it to a pumpkin patch. Of taking the cute photos of the precious baby/babies amongst the pumpkins. Which has become almost as much of a tradition as taking your kids for the photo with Santa Claus. (Which we have done, er, once.)


But for the last five Octobers I have either just given birth (2003 and 2004), been very pregnant (2005) or very newly pregnant (2006), therefore, the dream died. By 2007 our tradition had become to not go to the pumpkin patch.


This year, 2008, came with some motivating factors. Loud ones. With sounds effects like this:

Can we go to the pumpkin patch Mom? Huh? Can we? Can we go today? Huh? When we goin Momma? I wanna go! Can we go when Daddy get's home? Saturday? When's Saturday? Is it Saturday today? When we goin to the pumpkin patch Momma?


Call me Mother of the Year.
We went to a pumpkin patch.


I liked our old tradition better.

First off, holy gourd, what a racket. We had to pay $3 per person just to get through the gate. Then $2 to ride the train. So before we had even been bombarded with all the other kid temptations, we were out a whopping $25. For the pumpkin patch.

Then we had to listen to our kids whine about wanting the hayride, the duck races, the jumpy slide, snow cones, and Capri Suns. If we had gotten them all they asked for, the whole day would have cost us at least $75.

So, ya think we bought us a pumpkin?


Heck to the no. We'd been dollared and dimed to death already, thank you very much. You can keep your $9.50 pumpkins, which I would assume lay golden baby pumpkins.

Congratulations, Halloween. You have now officially become as commercialized as Christmas.

The kids had an okay time. They loved the train, but there was mostly a lot of whining about what we didn't buy them and they received a lot of lectures about having a grateful heart. Which we do at home almost daily for free.

And, we tried to get a picture of all of them. Which consists of Walker assembling them in away so Ike won't fall head first, while they complain about the hay poking them, and me yelling "SMILE AT ME! NOW! LOOK UP! SMILE! BE STILL! ACT LIKE A HAPPY FAMILY!!!!"

It never works.


After about an hour and a half of that, Eva Rose declared she had to go and since you know I have a portapotty phobia, that was the our cue to leave.


Until next year. As the tradition has now begun.

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