Pumpkin Patch Kids

There are certain experiences you dream about having with your kids.

You imagine camping under the stars in sleeping bags, telling ghost stories and making s’mores. Then you go camping, and they hate the s’mores because they make their hands sticky, and you hightail it out of there at first light with the child who has screamed the campground into alertness since 3am.

You picture holiday photos in Santa’s lap, doling out cups of hot cocoa. Then Christmas comes, and Santa is a red menace they run screaming from, hot cocoa is too “yucky,” and marshmallows? Fuhgeddaboudit. (See s’mores, above.)

For me, one of those “dream experiences” was going to a pumpkin patch. I have taken the kids to two different pumpkin patches this year alone. And honestly, I had a better time at my last pap smear.

Pumpkin patch #1 was actually an okay trip. Ben was too scared to do anything except the 1.5 mile-an-hour hayride, but Megan and I rode a pony, went on a monster truck, bounced, went down a huge slide, and got some MASSIVE pumpkins.

Good times. Of course, the day started and ended with threats and tears, as is our custom, but the in-between part was pretty great.

Then there was today’s trip. This was a trip with their preschool to a different pumpkin patch. I was looking forward to it; all their school buddies would be there, other moms (who are cool), and the teachers. I thought we were going to have a blast. Operative word: thought.

Did I mention Lars would be there?

Ben has a best friend named Lars. From the moment we arrived at the pumpkin patch, Ben needed to be no further than one centimeter from Lars’ side at all times. Lars, however, did not share this same need.

Now, don’t get me wrong here. Lars loves Benny, but his love for Ben is more “I love my best friend,” whereas Ben’s is more “Fatal Attraction.” Lars may come home from preschool one day to find his stuffed bunny boiling on the stove, that’s all I’m saying.

While at the pumpkin patch, we rode a train, fed the goats and went through a hay maze, which left Ben hysterical because he couldn’t find his mommy. Did I say mommy? Oh, not mommy — LARS. He couldn’t find Lars. My bad.

For the “educational” part of the school trip, we viewed an outhouse (it was part of the tour, people – history and all), and learned about bees, sans birds.

Later, the kids had a front row seat while some dude played his guitar and sang about love and how it grows. All was fine, until he started singing “Old McDonald,” which is like Megan’s “Freebird.”

“Do an owl!!! Do a kitty!!! YOU DIDN’T DO A SHEEP!”

At this point, I decided to saunter over and ask her to let the poor man sing – at the exact same time, a small child decided he wanted to go out and see the world… from the vantage point of my ankles! I tripped over said child, and landed in an honest-to-god SPLIT.

Did I mention we were in the front row? Right. So I got my Nadia Comaneci moment in the spotlight out of the way, and shuffled to the back corner.

But wait, it gets worse. There was a puppet show. Ah, the puppet show. It gave poor Ben a front row seat to terror.

Our nice, singing love dude pulled out a 4 foot tall cat puppet. And Ben lost it. LOST. IT. Screaming, crying, crawling over the seats to get the hell out of there, I went running down the aisle after him. While we hug it out in the other room, Megan proceeds to freak out because “I ran away.” Twins! They will break me one day.

I am happy to say that in the end. we all got pumpkins, and the kids were happy as clams the whole ride home. I, however, felt like I had just talked a jumper off a ledge…myself.

Right now, they are napping and I have just instructed daddy to bring me home a chocolate bar. So, life goes on…

Meredith Bland is the mother of twins, born in 2008. Follow Meredith on her popular, award-winning blog, Pile of Babies.