Over the years, our family has ventured out to countless farms and pumpkin patches, yet the experience remains strikingly similar no matter where we go. If you’ve never taken your little ones to a pumpkin patch for some family fun, let me paint a picture of what you’re missing. Are you ready? Here’s how it typically goes:
Your enthusiastic child will rouse you long before the sun has even thought about rising. They’ve figured out it’s Pumpkin Patch Day, and you’re the reason they know. That red circle on your calendar? Yeah, that was a rookie mistake. Even if your child can’t read, they have a sixth sense for these things.
You thought writing in code might keep it a secret. Not a chance. Your 3-year-old will decipher it faster than you can say “pumpkin spice latte,” guzzle whipped cream straight from the can, and do a little dance on your kitchen counter—completely naked. Then, they’ll wake up every sibling, enthusiastically shouting, “We’re going to the pumpkin patch today!” It’s astounding how clearly they convey this message, even when their vocabulary is still developing.
Now you’re awake at an ungodly hour, whether you like it or not. You give each child detailed instructions on how to dress and direct them toward their neatly hung outfits, each labeled with their name: socks, underwear, pants, shirts, sweaters, shoes, and coats. You’ve coordinated colors in hopes of capturing that perfect holiday card photo to send to relatives who probably won’t appreciate it.
Despite your meticulous planning, one child will inevitably come downstairs dressed in a Cinderella ballgown, pink rubber gloves, and swim goggles. Getting that elusive family photo may be more challenging than wrestling a bear; the sooner you accept this fact, the better. A strong cup of coffee helps.
Into the van go three different baby carriers and a sling, along with a fluffy orange pumpkin costume for the baby. You can’t let go of the idea of a “Baby’s First Autumn” photo to impress your Thanksgiving guests. Also packed are eight old towels and ten plastic garbage bags, because you learned from past experiences.
Outside, it’s pitch black, pouring rain, and colder than a polar bear’s toenails. Everyone is bundled up like they’re headed to the Arctic, but you know that by the time you reach the pumpkin patch, they’ll be sweating in 85-degree heat. The discomfort will lead to itchiness and misery, so you load 14 additional shirt options, just in case. Everything is color-coordinated—except for your daughter’s light blue ballgown and swim goggles. You’re pretty much out of luck with that one.
Upon arriving at the farm, the kids will spill out of the van, eager to sprint in all directions at once. You must assert your parental authority and select the best baby-wearing option. Now is not the time to lose your cool.
You herd your family into the line for the hayride to the pumpkin field. Dad heads into the barn-turned-store to buy tickets for the corn maze, convinced it will be a blast. Meanwhile, the little ones spot a distant tractor pulling whimsical train cars and demand a ride. You have to convince them that first, they must pick their pumpkins.
Unfortunately, they’ve lost interest in pumpkins, distracted by dreams of the tractor ride and the enticing aroma of kettle corn, mingled with the scents of wet hay and cow manure. Ignore the whining and direct their attention to the hay wagon making its way toward you. It’s finally time to choose pumpkins.
Wait. Is that a field? It looks more like the muddy marshes from a Tolkien novel. In the distance, you spot what appears to be a “field” completely saturated in mud, glistening from the morning rain. Those orange dots bobbing around? Yup, those are your pumpkins. Apparently, pumpkins can swim. And that child in swim goggles? Way smarter than you.
Climb into the hay wagon, and hold on tight. You don’t want to know what happens during this ride.
As soon as you disembark, one child will spot a portable toilet and become fixated on the urgent need to pee. This will be a new adventure for them, and they won’t let you forget it until they’ve relieved themselves in that blue plastic cubicle. Ironically, this is the same child who refuses to use the toilet at home.
Now join the rest of the family to make unforgettable memories. The process of picking pumpkins will be somewhat mundane, unless you consider the 80 minutes spent trudging through muddy marshes, battling a wheelbarrow that seems to have a mind of its own, and dealing with kids slipping and falling face-first into the goo. Don’t forget the 4-year-old who insists on switching pumpkins every six minutes. Reminder: Don’t leave your ski jackets behind; you’ll need to drag them through the mud later.
After paying an exorbitant $139.76 for the pumpkins, you head into the corn maze. Picture this: dragging muddy, wet children down a stinky path lined with rows of dead corn stalks. How long have you been in here? An hour? Three days? Who can tell? Just hope you can escape before the vultures start circling.
With the baby now wailing, try to breastfeed with one arm while simultaneously lifting a tantrum-throwing preschooler who has chosen to sit in a puddle. Don’t be shy about it; multitasking is key.
Once you finally emerge from the maze, it’s time for the much-anticipated tractor ride. You never know how kids will react to being seated in barrels towed by a tractor driven by a burly man in overalls. If they start shrieking, just smile, wave, and pretend it’s all part of the fun. You paid for this experience, after all, so let them enjoy it—even if they do throw up.
You spot a prime photo opportunity and line up your muddy, dazed children to stick their faces into wooden cutouts of animals. It would be a fantastic shot, except for the one child screaming in horror. No worries, you can always omit that from your social media.
Finally, you arrive at the barn-turned-store, where you spend $85 on a homemade apple pie and a jar of apple butter. Resist the urge to go overboard on the fall decor—those overpriced leaves are essentially yard waste. Trust me, you’ll need that money to buy wine later.
Dad lays out towels in the van and loads the pumpkins. Cold, muddy kids start shedding their pants to sit on plastic garbage bags. Despite your extensive planning, you made the classic mistake of forgetting extra pants. No need to panic—towels work fine as makeshift skirts. Load everyone in, buckle up, and crank up some soothing instrumentals to lull your little ones to sleep.
Distribute kettle corn on paper napkins and try not to dwell on the fact that your kids are munching on snacks while pantless. After the long journey home, wake them up and usher them into baths and bed.
Next time you see pumpkins adorning neighborhood porches, take a moment to appreciate the effort that went into procuring them—unless, of course, the family cut corners and bought theirs at Walmart.
The pumpkin patch is where memories are made, offering ample reasons to indulge in a truckload of dark chocolate and wine. Plus, it gives your children plenty of stories to share with their future children—or therapists.
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In conclusion, while the pumpkin patch adventure can be chaotic and exhausting, it offers a unique opportunity for family bonding and lasting memories. Just remember to pack wisely and keep your sense of humor intact.