The other week we'd gone on a co-op field trip to an area patch. The kids were happy to run off and play at the different attractions. I caught a few pictures and hung out with the moms.
I even snuck off for an apple cider donut (shh).
Later that afternoon was my niece's wedding rehearsal and we headed to that side of the county. I realized, as we were leaving the patch, we hadn't done the hayride or purchased a pumpkin.
"I just grab a $2.99 one at the store," one mom said to me. Very different from years past when we'd head to the local pick-your-own and I'd have a ball photographing my kids in a seas of orange pumpkins.
But that's what I did. On the way home one morning from a photo session for a family reunion, I stopped off at a country store, got a package of apple cider donuts, and two pumpkins.
Erin painted hers. She left it outside to dry. The next day, I noticed the dog had paint all over her legs.
"Where's your pumpkin, Erin?" I asked.
"It's outside," she said.
And it was, on the back lawn with a good quarter of it missing--likely, in the dog's stomach. I hoped she wouldn't get diarrhea.
This year, Lanie is dressing up as a cheerleader, and Erin and I were out last night at the craft store getting brown felt because she wants to be a puppy. God help us. My sewing skills are awful (flashback to the year I tried to make Lanie a cat, and she resembled a skunk. A two year old will not remember these things.)
Erin's good friend Viviana is coming over to join us for dinner and trick-or-treating.