Pumpkin Guts

Every year I scoop out the pumpkin guts, and I promise myself that I will never carve again. But then the next year rolls around, and I somehow convince myself that all good, sweet mothers carve pumpkins with their kids.


But the reality is so much messier and disgusting all at once. Kinda like sticking your hand up inside the raw turkey. And that my friends, is where I draw the line. There are places where you just shouldn't stick your hand. A turkey falls on the far side of the line. Pumpkins are coming close enough to touch it.

Without fail, everyone gets bored within 3.7 minutes of starting. So, I finish the carving and the cleaning. The 'happy-family-carving-pumpkins' turns into 'this-is-a-huge-mess-that-mom-cleans-up'.

This year, the twins made it all the more exciting. Keagan kept constantly exclaiming, "Eww, sick!" My thoughts exactly. Next year, I swear I'm not carving. I'm just not. I'm going to outsource it to someone in India. Let me know if you want me to send yours as well. I'm keeping a list.