A Pinkin for My Punkin

"Pinkins!" T Junior points to an orange orb in the field. "Touch!"

I set him down in the mud-and-squash-vine turf. He pats the pumpkin like it's a pet and smiles.

Last year, we didn't do this. T Junior was only 5 months old. Life was hectic. A few days before Halloween, I took him to Fred Meyer and he rode in the cart. I sifted through the chest-high cardboard boxes filled with pumpkins the size of...the size of my child. Maybe larger.

That night I noticed T Junior had a fever and, well, if you've ever read this blog before, you know my son was rushed to the hospital in the morning.

So no pumpkin pictures for us in 2008. We didn't come home till November.

Even though this is my son's second fall, this is our first patch visit.

We didn't get off to a great start because of this
loud, scary goose, seen here in the bottom left corner.

T Junior patting a "pinkin"

Telling us what it is. "A pinkin!"

Trying to lift it up

My punkin won't hold still anymore.

Helping Dada (aka Mr. T)