It seemed so simple. Leave our house around 9AM, bottle feed Blake on the way, play around at the "cow farm" (Berry Patch Farms), grab some pumpkins, and then head back home by lunch time so we'd be there in time for our family nap.
And, what happened today was none of that. We finally departed the Martin residence around 9:30 with a crying 7 week old and excited little boy in the back seat. We stopped to get gas at BP and coffee at the connected McDonald's. Dennis went into the dual-purpose building and re-emerged what seemed like decades later. It seemed like decades, anyway, because my gas pump wasn't working (it kept saying, "SEE CASHIER") when I tried to pay at the pump. Blake was crying in what I'm sure was her loudest voice ever and Connor then joined in the fun and started crying saying, "My want cow farm, mama... my want cow farm!"
And this is all before we were officially on the way to the Pumpkin Farm.
Connor kept asking me, "What dat, Mama?" I would tell him it's a tree or a car or a fence and then he raised his voice and started talking really loud. I asked him to please be quiet. And then I said it.
"Connor, do you want to go to the cow farm?"
"Then don't yell. Cows don't like it when you yell. And we won't go to the cow farm if you keep yelling."
Two things happened in that moment: I realized we aren't that cool anymore, even though we think we are. Dennis dancing in the front seat and I am using cows to get my son to use his inside voice. Really???
Somehow, we made it there, all three of us sitting in the back with the best looking chauffeur that I've ever seen.