But the alternative was let the six children trash my house, so the pumpkin patch seemed to be the lesser of two evils.
First of all, I could barely fit the team (yes, too bad we aren’t up to snuff with our hand-eye coordination…I could have my own basketball team here) in my car. And my oldest daughter seemed to think we were going to be gone for days in the remote wilderness becuase she packed “Survival packs” for all the kiddos, which consisted of a canteen of water, cheese and crackers, band aids, flash lights and super hero action figures. We were set for the twenty mile trek to south Bixby to Carmichaels PUmpkin Patch…Survivor Man…you have nothing on us.
Let’s see…between meltdowns, almost losing a couple of kids in the “haunted maze” (okay, it was really just some haybales with a black tarp, but the kids were scared), kids freaking out about the vicious wildlife (hey, those goats and chickens can get agressive) and my germaphopic son throwing an absolute HISSY fit because there was no where to sterilize his hands after handling animal feed, all in all it was a good trip. Just us surviving and getting back to the car in one piece (minus a couple of bloody hands and knees, good thing we had the band-aids) made it an awesome trip.
And it was Baby J’s first pumpkin patch! Yay! What a special day. You can see she really enjoyed herself.