Sometime last month I took my kids to the local pick-your-own apple farm for some good, old-fashioned quality family time. My husband had to work, so it was just the boys and me. It was a beautiful October Sunday.
So picture this: a happy mom and her 3 happy boys off to the apple farm on a warm October day. They arrive and run excitedly to the tractor-drawn wagon and wait patiently and quietly for the other apple-pickers to get on. As the happy family rides out to the orchard, the boys talk nicely to each other and genuinely enjoy each other's company.
The family gets out of the wagon and walks happily over to the golden delicious and jonagold apples that are ready for picking that week. As per instructions, they pick a juicy-looking specimen, rub it on their shirt to get all the dirt off, and taste it to see if they like it. Having decided the apples were good, they pick a bag full then happily wait for the wagon to return so they can relax a few minutes at the play area. When it's time to leave they go happily to the car and ride quietly home enjoying the rural scenery.
That's how I choose to remember the day. That's not exactly how it happened.
They didn't really want to go to the apple farm, but it was better than church. So we went, despite the opinion of my 13-yr-old that it was a stupid thing to be doing.
There were bees in the orchard. The guy there said they were sweat bees and that they wouldn't sting. But they were annoying and the kids were sure they were going to get stung. So two of the kids headed back to the playground area after about 3 minutes of apple picking (grumbling about the fact that they had to walk because the guy with the wagon wasn't back yet). The other one stayed with me about 5 more minutes. Then he also wanted to go back. When I got there someone was crying about something one of the others had said or done. I was told it was a stupid trip to a stupid apple farm and why couldn't we have just stayed home? I paid for our apples, then rounded everyone up for the short trip home. On the way home I enjoyed the sounds of kids arguing but I've chosen to forget what it was they were arguing about.
I guess I'll get the pictures printed and make a cute scrapbook page so when the kids grow up they can tell their kids what a great mom I was for taking them to the apple farm.