The Obligatory Pumpkin Patch Photos. It’s a rite of passage. Fall isn’t fall without it. Mom guilt is lessened by it. Children running crazy there, trying to pick up pumpkins (fruit or vegetable?) twice their size. Ahh, the good ol’ pumpkin patch. There was once a time I would have dressed up my young girls in their matching (hand-sewn) “halloween” dresses I made and drive them there, orange ribbons tied, to snap photo upon photo. There was also the year I was as big as a pumpkin myself, and the year I threatened the girls to hold their brother’s hand or else. Eventually my enthusiasm tapered off (that and life’s crazy level increased ten fold) so I began to crash his school field trip to try to get my pumpkin’s photo.
Insert child three and two what-feels-like-teenagers — and I swerve into the pumpkin patch parking lot hot on two wheels, to meet his class there for their field trip. He is dressed up in his non-matching ‘sports day’ attire for homecoming week, face painted (or tattooed- I cannot tell which), hair disheveled, but who cares. The boy has a smile on his face. As do I for the obligatory pumpkin patch photos are done. Fall can be fall and my mom guilt has decreased. At least for today.