Pumpkins and Paternity

Today, we trekked to Sauvie Island in search of pumpkins. While there, we rode in a tractor-pull to the pumpkin patch. A real pumpkin patch, mind you.

Now, good old Joan's Pumpkin Patch in Livermore was an elegantly arranged field of hay bales with pre-picked pumpkins. The Portland version is more authentic. A real pumpkin patch where pickers pluck their pumpkin finds directly from the vine. And where pumpkin hunters also have to step over rotten pumpkins, tromp in muddy rows, and push back vines to reach that perfect find. The girls loved it.

While on the tractor ride, I smiled at the other moms. One of the moms smiled back, staring at Mary and Lucy, and then started into the by-now-familiar inquisition that goes like this:

Stranger: "They are cute...are they sisters?"

Me: "Yes."

Stranger: "They really have different coloring, don't they?"

Me: "Yes."

Stranger, this time with awkward hesitation: "Do they have the same father?"

Me: "Yes. And the same mother, too."

The first time this happened about six months ago, I was blown away. Now, I find it rather humorous. We are taken through this questionnaire at least one time a week, which I've nicknamed the Paternity Poll. I guess today it could be called the Pumpkin Patch Paternity Poll.