Thing 2’s class, along with the other first grade classroom in his school, took a field trip to the pumpkin patch today, and I joined them. It was every bit as fun and wonderful as you can imagine, especially if you’re imagining FORTY LITTLE SIX YEAR OLDS and also SCHOOL BUS EXHAUST.
His beloved teacher recruited as many parents as she could for this field trip, because of the loot and bounty that was coming home. It certainly helps to have twelve adults with you, when twenty kids are going to be carrying, lugging and rolling giant pumpkins back with them. Before we left, Mrs. R announced, “If any parents are prone to car sickness, please feel free to drive your own vehicle and follow the bus.” Um…. Car Sickness is my middle name. I didn’t even hesitate to take my free pass and basically knocked three kids over, in my hurry to get to my own car, before that teacher changed her mind. As it turned out, another mom and I rode together, and we had a lovely time, chatting in an uninterrupted manner as we drove, because we had no children with us! It was pretty much on equal footing with being at a spa, in a fluffy white bathrobe.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you whose kid went three hundred entire yards out into the monstrously-sized pumpkin patch…
… and then chose a four hundred pound pumpkin.
Suddenly the reason for twelve helping parents became crystal clear, as several little kiddos decided to get as far away from the tractor as they physically could, before they selected the biggest pumpkin they could possibly find. I let Thing 2 heave that beast along, as best as he could, for a while, because he was having a RIGHT FINE TIME doing it. He was so proud of his oversized squash, he was nearly bursting straight out of his coat, as he rolled it along on the ground.
And I don’t mean to brag, but my kid passed about four other kids, who were also rolling the blue whales of the patch toward the tractor and trailer, because apparently our Thing 2 possesses some powerfully strong rolling skills, the likes of which other six year olds haven’t fully developed yet. I was quite pleased to see that while his classmates were struggling to roll giant pumpkins in a straight line, toward the goal of a John Deere which would pull them back to base camp, my kid rolled his behemoth monster like he’d been drafted straight out of elementary school for the professional Punkin Moving Team. After he’d made it back to the tractor, he even went back out into the field and helped roll others in the right direction, so we could all make it back to the school before nightfall.
He’s a firm supporter of No Pumpkin Left Behind.
We now have a pumpkin the size of Canada on our front patio, which will more than likely sit there until I scrape its frozen carcass up out of the snow and ice, come Christmastime.
That’s how I roll, people!