Growing up right outside Chicago, I can count on one hand the number of times I went apple picking. There was one time I went as part of a father-daughter group called Indian Princesses when I was in first grade. Every year the swim team would go when I was in high school. That brings it to about five times total. All five of these times were really fun, but the apple orchard was nowhere near where I lived.
Last year I was pretty surprised when I got a flier from my son's preschool saying that the class would be going on an apple picking field trip. It was like getting a note saying they were going on a field trip to milk cows. I was surprised and intrigued. I immediately signed up to chaperone. I also learned that these types of field trips are pretty common. My older son and I really enjoyed it. After picking apples and a pumpkin, we had doughnuts and apple cider. Of course I had made the mistake of telling my son about the doughnuts before we got there, so not only did he start whining for one before grabbing the first apple, but he nearly caused a mass uprising when the other kids "fed" off of his demand for a doughnut. He was less familiar with cider at the time, and he got it confused with a common New England pest.
Tomorrow we will be going on another apple picking field trip. I had learned my lesson from last year. This time I would do it right. I was committed to not mentioning anything about the doughnuts and cider. So what did my son say when I reminded him that we are going apple picking tomorrow? "Doughnuts, Mommy! And spider!"