Got Pumpkin.

As a growing family, it is written that traditions should always be established in order to make the heart grow fonder. I always say, “bring on the love!” As it is Shane’s nature to be mildly aloof when it comes to the general masses, he caved in to the wild wild west that is the Half Moon Bay Pumpkin Patch. Note to self, in all the autumn festivities that encircles my favorite time of year, even I don't fall for the Pumpkin Festival. Amateur move.

We had plans to meet up with both my sisters’ families at nine o’clock am at Lemos. It’s a challenge in itself to get myself ready, yet two children seemed like a fifty yard dash with surprise hurdles up ahead. Thankfully, Shane has proven instrumental in the process of getting the kids ready. I, on the other hand, wrestle with outfits and wardrobe dilemma’s of my own. I’m not proud, but it’s a problem that needs some mending in the time management department.

We're on the road S280 and breaking through the fog that is Daly City. I disappointingly sip from a pedestrian latte disuguised as a cappuccino. I noticed not a peep from Hunter Styles and Stevie Day in the second row. Shane cradles my hand as he steers the car south. The traffic to Half Moon Bay was non-existent proven our hypothesis was a success, "Get there before ten o'clock." Up on the horizon the rows of orange awaken our solemn drive from the city. Hunter points, “look pumpkin, pumpkin daddy, pumpkin mommy, pumpkin, daddy, mommy,” he is sparked with intrigue. I'm content to know our monthly tuition to preschool is not a waste, he recognizes a pumpkin. The wafting smell of roasted pumpkins and air popped corn mingle, my heart drowns in the crisp autumn air.

Hunter and his cousin Alyssa and Sydney are thick as thieves. Personally, I never had the benefit of cousins and always envied others that did. Hunter laughed and smiled, playfully jousting with them. I watch from the outside, as an outcast, as the observer, as his mother. Stevie warm in her cozy stroller idly watched as the cousins menaced in the rows of pumpkins. Alyssa held the pumpkin that Hunter’s expressed such affection for, “my pumpkin.”

I wistfully purchased a few tickets for the kid zone activities, assuming that Hunter was open to all that was kid zone. He enjoyed the pony rides as he pushed my offer and advances with a stern, “no, I don’t want to.” He participated in the petting zoo with arms crossed and chest out, “no, I don’t want to.” As a proud parent, the train ride was a hoot! Beside, the fact that he shoveled blue berry scone due to mild starvation, the train ride was a success. Finally, Sydney and Alyssa volunteered to take Hunter down the slide which wheeled no parent coercion whatsoever. Eureka!

“Hunter say good bye to the pumpkins,” Shane gently reminded his son.
“Bye pummmpkins!” Hunter waived to the rows and rows of round orange pumpkins, “I love you!”

This is Shellie exclaiming, “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown” back to you Bob at the studio!