The Not-So-Great Pumpkin Caper

So, this is how we roll in my house.  It may have started when my husband and I were first dating and he instituted the “you pack it, you carry it” rule.  We’d take off for week-long vacations and he would chuck a couple of bathing suits, a tooth brush, a few t-shirts, and a pair of shorts into a carry-on while running out the door on the way to the airport…and I’d pack a large suitcase, a couple of carry-ons, and a camera.  He’d then breeze through the airport while I tugged and lugged.  He’s not completely barbaric.  Eventually he’d help lug and tug….but, certainly not without an “I told you so” and a dissertation on proper packing. By Day #6 of each vacation I would usually have to confess that I hadn’t worn at least 3/4 of what I had packed.

But, I digress.

Pumpkins.   Because I’m the meanest mother in the world, the Pumpkin Diaries went down like this….“Sure boys, you can pick out pumpkins, but you are responsible for carrying them all the way home.”

I’m not completely barbaric. That mandate was in response to the fact that I was already carrying a bag stuffed with 2 water bottles, 2 sweatshirts, a 1/2 eaten carmel apple, a tray of brownies they had won while playing a game downtown, a camera, 2 baseball hats that they simply could not wear, 2 pair of sunglasses that “weren’t the right ones”, and much, much (much) more.  I also told them that we would be getting pumpkins from a farm later.  But…they are fans of instant gratification and had to have pumpkins right then and there.

So, knowing full well that I rarely back down, the boys proceeded to pick out their pumpkins…hence sealing their fate.

Let the games begin.  You can only imagine the eye rolling that took place while I photographed the odyssey home.

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