So tomorrow we’re going to the pumpkin patch to buy pumpkins so we can carve jack-o’-lanterns for Halloween. I’m looking forward to the day when my children are so old that we no longer feel obligated to make an annual trip to the pumpkin patch and pretend like it’s something meaningful. It’s always such an ordeal. I mean, driving out there is fine. But then you’re there, and if it’s not raining, it’s muddy, and everyone has to walk around searching for the perfect pumpkin, and then we have to take all the pumpkins to be weighed and bought and I always think, “I do not enjoy Halloween this many dollars’ worth.” And then we have to stand around and have a conversation about whether or not we’re going to pay more dollars so the kids can do a frigging corn maze or whatever, or we have to look at decorative gourds and homemade jam and whatnot, and it just seems to take forever. Why do we have to do these things? I DO NOT KNOW. Except that I do know why we have to do it. We have to do it because we’ve always done it and so it’s tradition and as soon as we stop doing it, the kids will know their childhoods are officially over and that will just depress everyone. Except possibly me because I really don’t want to go to the pumpkin patch tomorrow. At all.

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