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Saturday, October 06, 2007

When I was wee, my father called me pumpkin

In keeping with local (and family) tradition, the youngest and I headed to Maple Springs Methodist on Reynolda today to buy one (1) pumpkin.

The youngest showed great fortitude in satisfying himself with a mere seven (7), including one of the dreaded "white pumpkins", which I have decided are the poodles of the pumpkin world. That is to say they are almost pumpkins... but not really. In fact, I think if you put someone allergic to pumpkins inside of one, nothing would happen.

We also came home with an amazing, reddish pumpkin with creepy bumps all over it, which I love intensely, plus five others in various shapes and shades of orange.

Now the youngest keeps asking me, with great excitement in his voice, if it's time to get the knife out yet, which question sounds very wrong coming out of a small child's mouth, even though I know he's just giddy about making his very first jack o'lantern.
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