After a whirlwind morning of grocery-shopping, buying Sam's Halloween costume, and picking out pumpkins, we arrived home barely in time for naptime. Andie had been up the night before (Night #1 sans bottle) and was exhausted, so I put her down right after lunch and Sam and I got to work on our pumpkins.
Sam scooped out the pumpkin guts while I got to work carving off the lid on the next one. At first, he looked at me worriedly, saying, "Uh-oh, Mom. This is messy." I reassured him it was supposed to be messy and the rest of the afternoon, he chanted while he scooped, "It's s'posed to be messy. It's s'posed to be messy."
Sam requested a "happy pumpkin, like me". What do you think? Can you see the resemblance?
Andie had, unfortunately, picked a rotten pumpkin. The stem and a chunk of the top fell off when I was lifting it into the car, so after we got her down for a nap, we decided to just throw the pumpkin away. When she woke up, I told her her pumpkin had shrunk. (Things are always changing size at our house. Judge me if you must. I'm not above a few white lies if it avoids a meltdown). Thank goodness for the gullibility of 20 month olds. She was happy, touching her now-small pumpkin, cooing, "Pumpkin. Andie's pumpkin." Sam thought we should have a happy pumpkin and a sad pumpkin (we're all about opposites these days), so Andie's pumpkin has a sad face. (If only I could have made a pumpkin with a stink-eye....)
The next day, we bought candles, and when the sun went down, we lit our jack-o-lanterns.