Patch Job

When we took Morgan to pick pumpkins last year, it was on a whim.  It was almost dark and we had to use the headlights on our car to see what the hell we were doing. We ended up spending $19 on a bunch of random gourds and some Indian corn, half of which had been eaten by mice.  I was not going to make the same mistake twice. We set out right after dinner; David actually took this picture out of a moving car as evidence we left while there was still light - not too shabby, huh?

But when we got there, I immediately realized we'd screwed up again. Although there was plenty of light left in the day, there wasn't a single pumpkin any bigger than a grapefruit. Total fail.

So we tried to make the most of it.  I am not sure why anyone feels compelled to stick their faces through these tiny little holes and pretend their heads are attached to those little particle board bodies, but we got right in line with everyone else. Frankly, I think David looks like someone is poking him with a cattle prod.

We then convinced some little hoodlum who was stealing Halloween candy to take our family picture.  I was totally expecting him to ride away with my camera, but he actually did an okay job.

I realized in that moment that I didn't have any photos documenting Morgan's own adventures in the pumpkin patch.  There were lots of spooky things to explore, like a motion-sensored witch and a '"graveyard" full of skeletons. Morgan got super brave and even tested the hand poking through the ground to see if the blood was real. She assured me it was not.  I was actually a little disappointed that nothing had even remotely freaked her out.

Just as I was about to call it a night, we started to hear a weird rustling in the trees behind us.  At first, I thought it was another prop but then it started to get much closer and much louder.  And there they were. Three mutha clukin' chickens - clueless about Halloween, looking for a little food, scaring the shit out of my daughter.