We arrived, surprisingly coordinated in our Texas-style fall clothing, with its sundresses, shorts, and t-shirts because it's still freaking 93 degrees outside.
We got about 5 feet inside the pumpkin area and Cora is already looking at me like yeah, that picture you were hoping to get of the three of your children amongst a patch of pumpkins is definitely not going to happen.
She quickly became overwhelmed by the unholy proliferation of squash.
When contact became imminent, she shifted to Defcon 1.
OH MY GOD IT'S A TINY ADORABLE BABY SQUASH AND YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE ME TOUCH IT.
Cruelty comes in many forms.
Here's a nice map of Texas as a palette cleanser.
The big kids mocked the baby with their flippant attitudes and casual touching of gourds.
Claire even asked for a picture as she calmly stood in the middle of the pumpkin maze, unafraid of ever being able to exit.
Cora withdrew to a nice bridge (over a pumpkin river she wasn't going to acknowledge) and plodded back and forth across its pumpkin-free planks.
The rest of the village mocked her from a distance.
Finally, we attempted to make Cora sit near a pile of squash once more, and once more there were tears and lamentations to the heavens. So we walked in the sun, where darkness cannot follow.
Moving on to other exhibits, the big kids bought their $2 souvenirs of evil with them.
As we wandered, Cora realized the kids were holding something she didn't have.
"MINE!" she proclaimed, evil forgotten.
And so she claimed the mini pumpkins for the light.
One hundred yards away, a bench beckoned. Cora pardoned all the pumpkins and refused to let anyone recontaminate them with their touch.
Completely ridiculous.
Knows it.
Loves it.
Hugged her siblings' pumpkins the whole drive home.
I love the Arboretum in fall.
Their expressions are priceless. :)
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