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After our trip to the pumpkin patch, it was just a matter of time before our pumpkins got new faces.  Jack put on A Nightmare Before Christmas and we whipped out the carving tools.

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First, the girls played around with Jack’s oversized pumpkin.  It was, after all, forty-five pounds.

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Claire kept making an amusing face and repeatedly uttered, “Oooo-oooo,” while she slapped the pumpkin.  It was obviously incredibly interesting to her.

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Evelyn was much more helpful this year.  Last time, the slimy pumpkin guts were too much and she refused to reach her hand in.  This time, there was a gross fascination with it and she dug most of it out herself, expertly sifting the seeds from the pulp.

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She dictated to me what the face should look like–how many teeth, the shape of the eyes, how many eyelashes.  Then she sat on my lap and watched me carve.

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She did the same with Claire’s little pie pumpkin.  Man, that thing was tough!  At least it turned out cute so I suppose it was worth the effort.

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I etched a witch into my jack-o-lantern, complete with a long carrot nose.

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In the time I gutted and carved three pumpkins, Jack barely had time to hack a thick face into his.  For a few years now, he’s sculpted his pumpkin rather than carved it.  It turned out pretty good this year.

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It was some kind of vampiric Frankenstein monster or something.  I think it turned out sufficiently creepy.

So, we lit the pumpkins before we sent Evelyn up to bed.  Hers and Claire’s definitely glowed the best.

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The poor carved gourds didn’t even last the night.  The frost in the midnight hour weakened them which, when they thawed in the warm morning sun, turned to a wrinkly mush.  My witch’s nose deflated and Jack’s dried out pumpkin face became more defined.  Oh, well.  I suppose it just made them more spooky.

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True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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