I decided that this weekend’s Sanity Saver Outing would be to a nearby pick-your-own pumpkin patch. The former pumpkin farmer in me was very excited to show my little sprout where the pumpkins in the grocery stores actually come from, how they grow from plants in the ground.
Call me old fashioned, but when I think of a pumpkin patch, I think of the plot of ground from which pumpkins are grown. And when I think of a “pick your own” pumpkin patch, I think of walking among pumpkin plants with some cutters.
This was not that. It was a hay field (I guess?) bordered by a corn (er, maize) field. Pumpkins were cut and lined up in rows. To be fair, it actually isn’t THAT fun to slog through a pumpkin field and handle those prickly stems and carry a big, wet, muddy pumpkin. And with as many children as were running around this place, I don’t know how it could have worked very well. They seemed to have their system down. There was a craft tent, pony rides, a barbecue vendor, a fresh donut truck, and a maize maze to draw the crowd.
I was happy to spend an hour outside, and the little dude definitely shared my appreciation for hot, delicious donuts.
He did not, however, care that I was hoping for some darling, smiling fall photos of him in a twee sweater (which he SCREAMED to avoid wearing). But that’s OK. It’s kind of sweet to capture him as HIM, in the fleece jacket that he picked out with his dad, feeling kind of wiped out from the latest cold.
Then again, he didn’t even look at me for a photo on the giant hay couch (punk). I asked him to sing “Wheels on the Bus” to get him to at least turn away from the gourds. Here he is at the part where the children go up and down.
I wish I would have thought to ask someone to get a picture of the two of us together (mostly to see how big the bump is starting to look). At least I have the sweet memories of the hugs and kisses he gave me before bedtime after talking about our day at the pumpkin patch.