the great grocery store pumpkin

Here in South Florida, we don't have authentic pumpkin patches or Christmas tree farms. We have fields where pumpkins and Christmas trees are brought from places where they actually grow, set up to make you believe you're really selecting your holiday decorations right from nature. I've always clung to the belief that these were real pumpkin patches and real Christmas tree fields, just because at least they hold some glimmer of hope and authenticity. Until we have a holiday where you pick oranges and string them with lights, it's the best we can do. I always said I would never, ever buy a pumpkin or Christmas tree from a grocery store because that doesn't feel even as real as a man-made lot. That is until today.

Ethan has been to a pumpkin patch at least five times this month. Each time I had another reason for putting off the purchase of a pumpkin: too soon, too heavy, no good options, wanted to include someone else in the process. Each time my back-up plan fell through the cracks and then it was six days until Halloween and we had no pumpkin to carve. Today my plans for a pumpkin patch stop were deterred by threats of a hurricane, closed schools, incessant rain and windspeeds too scary to listen about on the news let alone drive in. I realized that this year, we'd be in for a grocery store pumpkin. (And in typical Florida fashion, I'm staring out my window at a blue sky. Figures.)

I walked Ethan into the grocery store and lead him to the back near the produce department where the pumpkin display was. His face lit up. He squealed with delight. He ran, shrieking with joy, over to the pumpkins and hugged some, blew some kisses, petted some. He rearranged the miniature pumpkins and sniffed the cinnamon brooms on display to try to offer up some kind of authenticity as a relevant fragrance. He laughed until he had hiccups, running around the display feverishly, stopping only to admire a pumpkin.

I felt silly. I walked into the store fighting back feelings of disappointment and let-down in Ethan not being able to choose a pumpkin from a pumpkin patch and here was my sweet little boy, reveling in pure delight and excitement. He was having a blast.

It was one of those times where the innocence and joy of your toddler makes you realize how jaded adulthood has made you. One of those times where stubbornness and waiting until the rain cleared in hopes to go to an outdoor patch would have caused you to miss these moments: the laughter, the joy, the best morning you've had in some time.

He ended up giving a bear hug to a lopsided pumpkin that stands upright only with special care. It's stem is flaky and it's backside is dented. We did one more lap around the display. He came back to that same faulty pumpkin. I told him it was beautiful and a wonderful choice. He grabbed a bushel of bananas off of a nearby display and we went to go check out, his belly filled with ripe banana and my heart filled with love.