Talladay Farms Corn Maze

continued

My kids and I park in a field, meet up with two other families, and head out. A wooden staircase attached to a giant platform sits at the edge of the cornfield. “What’s that?” I ask my smarty-pants friend Dan. He looks up briefly, continues covering himself with bug spray, and says, “The last person through the maze is sacrificed to the corn gods.”

The kids are excited. Dan’s daughter Shea—wearing her purple skirt and flowered sandals—runs ahead of the boys, shouting orders. Once we’re inside, my ten-year-old and his friend Ben break off from the rest of us, armed only with a cell phone. Now our group consists of four adults, three first-graders, and a preteen, Josh, who looks perturbed. “Hey, Josh,” I attempt. His eyes narrow. “Hey.”

The little kids pretend to be scarecrows, carry giant corn stalks like flags, and announce that the Skittles on the ground were intentionally left as landmarks. They run ahead while the grown-ups chat, and we foolishly let them navigate.