Last year, Max was exactly forty-five days old on Halloween, and while we still made him dress up in a costume and go trick-or-treating, he will probably mostly remember it, if at all, as the day he inexplicably had to wear a fur wolf suit in eighty degree weather. This year, while Max is still not quite old enough to understand or anticipate Halloween, he is definitely old enough to enjoy watching and exploring the spectacle of the holiday. Consequently, we ventured forth today on our first family pumpkin patch adventure.
There were a lot of different varieties of pumpkin, and Max wanted to see, pat, and lick them all. He was a little uncertain at first, and explored pumpkins from the safety and privacy of his wagon.
There was so much to see and touch, however, that his restraint did not last long. He dove into the pumpkin patch headfirst, determined to find the best possible family jack-o-lantern.
We could tell he had found the exact right pumpkin when we saw the satisfied smirk on his face. When we tried to pick him up and put him back in the wagon, however, he immediately tried to get back to his new pumpkin brethren. The fact that the ground was hard, and had occasional sharp dirt clods and pumpkin vines, drove not the slightest wedge between him and his new squash family.
Eventually, we persuaded him to come home with us, but he did smuggle this tiny pumpkin out with him, and carried it all the way home. (I don't know if you can really see the tiny pumpkin in the picture, but if you look closely, it is the thing in Max's hands that he is looking at instead of the camera.) I am pretty sure I saw Max give the pumpkin a kiss before we put it in the car. Is it the orangeness? Does he feel a sense of kinship, because he and the pumpkins share a certain roundness of head? Or is he callously planning to scoop out their guts and taste his first pumpkin pie? We cannot hope to know, although I did see him with a Betty Crocker cookbook this evening.