Cider House Rules

Today was Elgin's second day of being sick with the latest respiratory virus, and since he woke from a long morning nap with no fever, Henry and I decided that it would be a good day to head to Sky Top to pick some apples. Fresh air is good for the lungs, after all.

The lady who pointed us towards the orchards was quick to tell us (yell) that the wagons are not for riding after I told Henry to pick one to ride.

I told Henry we could break this rule once out of their site.

Well, as it turns out, there's good reason not to ride those wagons.  Henry was my passenger as I pulled the wagon along a bumpy road that traversed a relatively steep ravine. Squirmy Elgin was in my arms, refusing the Bjorn. I stopped to adjust Elgin, let go of the wagon, then turned to see the heavy wooden vehicle carrying my Henry down the hill.  I could either toss Elgin to the side to be able to dive after the run away wagon, or I could try to catch it the best I could without endangering my other child. I. could. not. catch up. Henry started screaming, "Mamaaaaaaa!"

Henry mercifully crashed into a line of fledgling vegetation, stopping a dangerous decent down the rest of the mountain side, and catapulting just inches away from the wagon. His knee was scraped, and his finger was scratched.

He declared it the worst thing that ever happened to him.

So, Sky Toppers, heed the rules.  The wagons are for apples only--not your trusting children.

At least I was able to produce a cider slushy and an apple cider doughnut to amend for my error.

Here are my two beautiful boys.

Picking up the ones off the ground... stupid wagon back there.

Trying to help his little brother who loved running down the hills but didn't really love the face planting

What H thinks is an appropriate apple orchard pose.  That damn wagon's in the background. 

A climbing/ jumping thing.  The play area there is... different.

For me?

Always the observer:

It was right after he picked this apple that he declared, "That's enough." We came home with six apples, and I'm pretty sure that we only paid for five.  I don't know where the sixth apple came from--maybe Elgin is a smuggler.