::souvenirs::

Last week Max went on a field trip with school. He was way excited to ride on the bus, and I was way cool to not freak out and make him stay home after the American Fork band bus incident not too long ago. Anyway, enough about motherly worries. I volunteered to go along and assist, but of course in true Rhode Island public school fashion they didn't have any parents come along.

But this post isn't about any of that.

They went to a farm, took a hay ride and got to pick out a pumpkin to bring home. At least that's what I gathered from my son's very non-descriptive description of the day.
His pumpkin was cute, and he liked it although he was very glad to hand it over to me when I picked him up. He's kinda wimpy and doesn't like to carry heavy things--wait, really anything that weighs more than an old cell phone. He'll carry an old cell phone around all day.

But, here I am sidetracked again.
Here's the man with his pumpkin.


I brought him home and fed him lunch. I cleaned up the kitchen and was sweeping the floor when he suddenly said, "oh! I almost forgot! Look at what I brought home!"
He reached in his pocket and pulled out a big handful of hay.

Seems that they did actually go on a hay ride! This is the same boy who would come back from his preschool in Kansas City with pockets full of the big gravel in the playground. I'd have to go and put it back all the time.

I was really please (as you might imagine) to have the hay hit my newly swept up floor. He gathered it up--with no small amount of encouragement--and took it outside to his "house" which is our little shed in the backyard.

What a goofball. I think he was more excited about the hay than the pumpkin. Oh well, there's no accounting for taste, right?