Halloween was not very important to us when I was little. I know I trick-or-treated several years. I remember dressing as a southern belle and attending a fall festival. One time I remember a pumpkin being in our kitchen one year and then on the porch after that, but I don’t really remember designing it or cutting it up.
Why is that?
Now I know.
When the P was four, he begged for a pumpkin to carve. This seemed like a fun tradition, so I picked up a pumpkin and some free newspapers to cover the floor and I cut open this pumpkin. I showed the P, “Look, pumpkin gunk. Help me get it out.”
He touched it once, shuttered, and never looked back.
I gutted and carved that whole pumpkin all by myself. It was a shame.
The next year, we skipped it. No one noticed.
This year, the P asked again if we could please get a pumpkin. I said okay because he’s older now, right? He can help a little.
The gunk still made him shutter, he’s still not old enough to handle the carving knife, and he can read now, so the advertisements in the free newspapers are suddenly way inappropriate.
So, again, I carved this whole pumpkin by myself. And I vowed, “I am not doing this again.”
I imagine that’s why I do not have memories of pumpkin carving, and that’s why my children will not have memories of pumpkin carving. And I think that’s for the best.
If they ask next year, we are going to paint our pumpkins. Everyone is old enough to paint.