And Then We Nap

Yesterday, I got to go on a field trip with A-girl's kindergarten class to (where else?) the pumpkin patch. Minus the hayride and minus the pumpkin donuts. But add 92 kindergartners and you've got quite the party going.

Good times were had. Oh yes they were. We went to Punkin Pond and fed the fish. We went to Punkin Patch and found a rainbow...no, not really...we just found a pumpkin.

Next was Punkin Barn to see the animals. A-girl, didn't want to go near them though...petrified of ((dirty hands)), no doubt from the briefing they had from the pumpkin patch tour guide of how important it is to not put your hands in your mouth after petting the goats/donkey/sheep/pigs/bunnies/chickens/ducks/horsie (you could get sick and diiiiie--no, they didn't really say that exactly, but pretty close)...it was quite informative and scared the you-know-what out of A-girl. She was ready to go sit back in the bus after that one.

But after A-girl saw the excitement (and the jumping up and down) and hearty exclamations of her Momma, after I decided right then and there that I needed one of these--




for Christmas, she joined us back at the piggies. Momma doesn't really want a piggy. They are just filthy and they don't really "OINK," as we've been told, but rather, SCREAM like something out of The Exorcist (Just typing that out makes me want to say prayers). And they look like this when you pick them up. Can you see the eyes? Please, lady, put the pig down.

Then we took a couple of these--

A-girl was getting pretty pumpkin patched out at this point. Which allowed for nice snuggling with my girl in the bus all the way back to the school.





Kindergarten field trips are pretty awesome. Being five is pretty awesome. I know my kiddos don't really realize how awesome being little is, right now, and that it takes another thirty years, or so, for that to get good and set in. I mean, everything is so new and shiny for them right now. Primary colors galore. Every time I go into her class, I just want to criss-cross applesauce on my spot at circle time and learn my ABC's all over again. I want to debate with my mom over the pros and cons of zipping my hoodie up. I want to forget my lunch box. I want to sing songs about the American flag all loud and full of elementary school vigor. I want second grade subtraction to be the hardest part of my day. It all looks so fun looking down from the grown up world. From mortgages. And budgets. And litter boxes. And figuring out what's for dinner. And not just folding the laundry, but actually putting it away. And working 60-hour work weeks (thanks hubbs). Sometimes I just want to color.

Maybe we should work on that. Maybe we could try to make it a requirement once you reach the very old and grown up age of 30, to go to the pumpkin patch at lease twice every fall. Run through the house and knock stuff over. Not make our bed, but to pull all the blankets and covers down and to make a spooky fort in the living room. I'm talking about eating Butterfingers for dinner. Or really trying to. Walking in the mud once in a while. Actually letting our fingers stay sticky. Skip and twirl through the grocery aisles. Really trying to find something, every day to be amazed in. To discover. And then...and then, we nap.