Yummy Insides

Hollow Heads

It is mocking me. It is on my back porch rotting away and it never even had a name or a face. We just gutted the insides and cooked them for our pleasure. A little salt makes them quite tasty.

Sure we intended to use the whole thing. We didn’t want to be wasteful of the sunlight and nutrients and sacrifice that was made. The knife was wet from sawing at the top of the head and all that was needed was a few more cuts.

We promised to bring it to life with a knife. It would be our Monster and we were the family of Frankensteins. If only we had the time and the patience. Or Teri Garr from Young Frankenstein… Crap I am off track. Focus. Focus. Oh yeah, if only we had the time or the patience.

“In a minute” gave way to “bath time”.

Then “bedtime” pushed the face-e-otomy to “tomorrow”.

We forgot that tomorrow was mommy and daddy date night and the next day was dance and a dinner. Two days later and we pulled off the top of his severed head.

Inside looked like the slimy mid-face of my youngest child. Booger-y and something you don’t really want to mess with.

He ended up on the back porch. A metaphor for my Halloween intentions.

Rest in Peace

Dead like the flowers that needed to go in the garden.

Dead like the flowers that needed to go in the garden.

While the faceless Jack judges me through the window I see the perfect parents on Facebook. They have a pumpkin with some extravagant MC Escher inspired landscape where the pumpkin thickness is shaved precisely to cast different light intensity. A brilliant Pinterest work of art. Thanks a lot guys.

I try not to have a heart attack watching Supermom cut the top off the pumpkin. She is using a foot long knife, cutting towards herself, and pumpkin is hard to cut until suddenly it isn’t. After about forty five seconds of saying “hey” or “you might wanna”, she glares and me and holds out the knife and thereby her opinion. No need it two of us getting cut so I shut my mouth.

At this point the children are uncomfortable and don’t want to watch us cut two triangles and a square, much less witness a stabbing.

To all you parents who failed at anything close to cool with the pumpkin this year. This one is for you. You’re welcome.

Underdaddy to the Rescue.