Pumpkin Carving: Sharp Excuse for Kids to Wield Knives

Fact: Pumpkin carving is a centuries-old con by kids to manipulate parents into allowing them to wield sharp objects (and repeatedly stab and mutilate orbs shaped an awful lot like human skulls).

Fallacy: "Mommy, I won't cut myself if you let me use the big people knife."

No, really. Don't be alarmed. None of my three eager orange squash killers sliced themselves open during this afternoon's adventures in pediatric pagan pumpkin worship. And, no, I didn't cave into the kids (for once) by furnishing them with any of my coveted supa' sharp Miracle Blade carving knives.

--You must, must, must click on this Miracle Blade link to see the hilarious video of a frustrated infomercial actress whacking the bejesus out of a whole chicken with an apparently dull, useless knife! I think you'll agree with me that she could easily double as a porno chick with the way she's making ugly orgasm face while bobbing up and down to attack the dead meat. And how about that suave samurai pineapple whack? That's exactly how we halve exotic fruit at our house! Right, kids?--

Instead, The Maestro of Mouth, 5, Moody Cheeks McGee, 3, and Pigtail Sprite, 2, settled for plain old butter knives, which still require vigilant over-the-shoulder supervision. I was less worried about the kids cutting themselves as I was about them trying to cut each other. Like you never daydreamed about pulling a knife on your sibling(s) when you were a mini thorn in your mama's worried side?

(Thanks Mom and Dad for the "sharp" Christmas gift, complete with the kids' favorite knife to watch mommy spastically pulverize produce with - a bitchin' cleaver.

Okay. The "sharp" gift pun was a lame dud but I couldn't help myself. C'mon. I spend 24 hours a day with a 5-year-old know-it-all who just might know it all after all, a 3-year-old blood curdling scream personified and a 2-year-old thumbsucking and pigtail twirling addict with eyes huge enough to scare me in the night.


Cut me some slack. My brain has severely atrophied (mom-trophied) thanks to my love/hate choice to remain a SAHM going on nearly six years now. It's a chore not to regress with a trio of reckless kids constantly and erratically orbiting in my personal space. I can't remember what personal space is any more? Doesn't personal space have something to do with being able to sit on the can without kids barging into the bathroom every 60 seconds to inspect the shape, size and color of your deposits? Ew but true.)

'Back to pumpkin worship because it's fall and the frantic, last-minute hunt for Halloween costumes is creeping up around procrastination corner.

Every year we take the kids to the overpriced pumpkin patch to stomp on sketchy "carnie" petting animal droppings and to thwack their tender young foreheads against the optical illusion dead-ends in the random stranger-grease smeared house of mirrors.

So my nephew was having a swell time behind the fence at the pumpkin patch petting zoo when he made an arresting observation. "Hey, Aunt Kim, 'dat one faw-ted," he said, pointing at the accused. Suspecting I'd heard him incorrectly (decoding three-year-old talk isn't exactly easy), I asked for clarification.

"Whad'you say, honey?"

"'Dat sheep right over 'dere just faw-ted!" chortled my funny little nephew. "Yuck! It 'weally faw-ted!"

He stopped frozen in time and stared at the pooh dredlocked back end of the flatulent sawdust dipped sheep.


My startled nephew had arrived at a pivotal childhood epiphany: Holy smokes. It's not just people. Even animals fart!

Which brings me to this timely Joker quote from the old TV show Batman: "Egads! What sorcery is this? There was enough paralyzing gas in that cork to keep ordinary men unconscious for hours!"

*Number of cough/cold/boogie interruptions during this posting: Five, damn it. My poor sickies. Much musical beds ahead to survive the night.