We are very boring people here at my house. Or at least predictable. We are predictable people. And what is a predictable way to spend a fall weekend? Why, apple-picking, of course. What could be more obviously fall? Other than maybe pumpkin-picking. Which we’ve also already done. (Disclaimer: Please note that I do not intend to cast aspersions on other apple-pickers! I only assert that my own family is predictable or otherwise boring. Carry on.)

So. We bundled the kids up (because though it’s hot here, the apples grow in the mountains where the air is a little crisper), packed them into the car, and drove for an hour and twenty minutes to a wee little town surrounded by apple orchards. Before we got to the apple-picking town, though, we had to drive through another farm town.

We were only passing through, but Owen was very interested in the downtown area. “Is this a cowboy town?” he asked as we waited at a red light, and we had to allow as it sort of was, sort of a town for the cowboy-like farmers whose ranches we had admired along the road.

“I thought so,” he said. “Because that store there has cowboy words on it.”

The store:

Pop Quiz! Would the correct parenting response be:

A)    A hearty, “Why yes, son, those ARE cowboy words!”
B)    A noncommittal, “Hmm. I see what you mean.”
C)    A thorough explanation of the difference between a cowboy-style font, which the sign certainly employed, and cowboy words, which—well, whether the sign features cowboy words is probably debatable. Though certainly those words do feature prominently in the town that we’ve already established is something of a “cowboy town.” [At this point you might begin to wonder whether he’s still listening, or whether you lost him at “font.”]
D)    Other (please explain.)