By Micki Bare
Our youngest, now affectionately known as the spoiled one now that his brothers have their own lives, has taken to pumpkin carving. He was always involved in the past, but this year he took over as the official resident pumpkin artist. I’m sure this new designation has nothing to do with the fact he is the only one still interested in the ritual.
Years ago, carving a jack-o-lantern was a family event. Everyone gathered around the table and helped pull out the goopy stuff. When there was but one pumpkin to carve, they each had a say in the final design. During the more prosperous years, they each had their own pumpkin to decorate as they saw fit.
When my youngest spotted a deluxe pumpkin carving kit, complete with 87 templates that could be mixed and matched to create an infinite number of intricate pumpkin designs, while we were purchasing his school supplies, he had to have it.
Knowing, as a mother does, how intensely frustrated my youngest becomes when something doesn’t turn out just so, I was not ready to commit to an infinite number of pumpkin designs. I gently noted my concern.
My son suggested starting with an easy one as he pointed to the generic Dracula image. My eyebrows went up — I’d have lifted only one eyebrow in a quizzical manner, but I didn’t get that gene, so both went up. “Start? You mean you want to carve a practice pumpkin?”
“If you think that would be OK,” he answered. He then reassured me that the practice pumpkin could be an inexpensive one. He further noted that with his brothers out of the loop, we’d still be well within our annual pumpkins budget.
I thought it was sweet he assumed we were experiencing a more prosperous year. His plan was a good one, but my eyes emphasized my skepticism. “Mom, the kit is only $8. I’ll pay you back when we get home.”
As the youngest, this particular child has the good fortune of knowing how to negotiate with the parents. Price is always a factor. He did well pointing out the inexpensive nature of the infinite kit. It’s always a good idea to point out the value of a buy.
Note also that he threw in an offer to pay. This move accomplished two things. It demonstrated his level of seriousness and commitment to the product. It also showcased his generous spirit.
He may have had $40 in his pocket, but he wisely added the ‘when we get home’ caveat. Years of experience watching his older brothers negotiate taught him that the parents almost never ask for the money upon arrival home.
Big blue eyes and an innocent smile — the youngest can always cook up the smile or fat tears, depending on the situation — were thrown in for good measure. The child was clearly a pro at being the baby of the family.
Skepticism melted into compliance as I tossed the kit in the cart and moved toward the first shipment of pumpkins stacked near the bin of plastic protractors. Does anyone ever buy those plastic protractors? I couldn’t even get the metal ones to work when I was a student.
It being extremely early in the season, the pumpkins were relatively cheap and there were plenty from which to choose. We picked a medium-sized, plump, rounded one, made the rest of our purchases and headed home.
My child was spreading out newspaper and arranging his new carving utensils before I finished emptying our reusable shopping bags. It looked as if he was readying for surgery. Within a couple of hours, however, there were piles of stringy seeds, clumps of pumpkin goop and pieces of pumpkin shell strewn about the now-soggy newspaper. At this point, it looked more like a crime scene than a sterile medical procedure.
“You are cleaning all that up when you’re done, right?” I inquired in demanding, rhetorical tone.
“Yes, Mom,” he replied. And even though he didn’t stop to look me in the eyes, I felt the obligatory teenager eye roll pierce my presence.
He actually did an amazing job cleaning up. The Dracula face came out perfect, as well. We rather enjoyed our September jack-o-lantern. We also enjoyed our early-season baked pumpkin seeds.
After his early pumpkin-carving success, I might have gone a bit overboard at the pumpkin stand last week. Knowing my child’s capabilities in the areas of artistic carving, kitchen cleaning and seed baking, I purchased two of the largest pumpkins I could find.
The youngest may have overused his powers. He will be spending the weekend carving, cleaning and baking. However, I bet we will have the best jack-o-lanterns in the neighborhood. We should have enough seeds for the entire neighborhood, too.
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Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of “Thurston T. Turtle Moves to Hubbleville.” She lives in Asheboro with her husband, three children and mother. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.
