For The Love Of Pumpkins

So Halloween is among us, and thankfully enough my child is totally into the holiday. He thinks ghosts, witches, and zombies are cool. I don’t think he would have survived being part of this family if he hated Halloween and scared easily since Halloween is celebrated as much as Christmas here. Two days ago hubby and I picked out pumpkins to carve, of course we got our son a tiny gourd one and a “smaller” pumpkin to decorate. He was enthralled that we got pumpkins and even MORE so that HE got 2 pumpkins of his very own. The entire way home he held his pumpkin singing to it, he walked it inside and then sat it on the couch beside him, at dinner time he brought both the large one and the smaller gourd to the table to eat beside him… even at bedtime we allowed him to take the gourd with him to his room and to sleep with him. Never in my life did I think a child would make friends with a fruit, not that that’s the main issue… the issue is what the heck are we going to do once the larger pumpkin finally rots? We’re not allowed to carve it, we’re not allowed to do anything to it, its solely HIS.

So for now I’ll grin and bear my child packing around a gourd (everywhere) and packing the larger one around at home. I’ll allow them at the dinner table, on the couch, coffee table, and everywhere else that they’re showing up (the bathroom.) Hopefully with the coming of Christmas he’ll latch onto something else, hopefully something that doesn’t have an expiry date on it.


About vanitymom

I'm here to talk about not only the joys of motherhood but also the (not so much joys) of living in a high society world that you're judged upon your looks... where I live you need to be a 7 to gain beach access, an 8 to walk around half naked in the summertime and atleast a 9 to hold your head up high. I'm Vanity Mom. I will be talking about things such as parenting (of course) beauty tips for moms, exercise, and eating healthy... all while doing this with a kid biting the hell out of your leg because he's teething.
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