pumpkin fun

I walked through the door of the nursery school at the regular pick up time, and as usual, Elliot saw me from her place at her snack table and beamed happily at me. I'm always glad she's had a good day, especially since there was a week and a half near the beginning of the year where she'd start crying from the moment I brushed her hair in the morning in the washroom, all the way until I had left her at nursery school and made it back out to the van, the whole while berating myself for leaving her there if she wasn't having any fun.

Apparently she was happy the minute I left. I wonder what that suggests. Anyway.

I was a few minutes early so I went and sat on the floor near the climber and visited with other moms while we waited for the little "darlings" to finish eating.

Elliot gobbled up her snack and stood in front of me, announcing "I have a pumpkin!" I had almost forgotten that the kids usually get to take home a pumpkin around Halloween. She scampered off and returned a moment later, grunting and lugging a decent-sized pumpkin with her. "Look Mommy! My pumpkin!"

I was just happy it wasn't painted. And drippy.

I managed to convince her that I would hold it while she put on her jacket and backpack, and that maybe, just maybe it would be a good idea if Mommy carried it down the flight of stairs, and that it might be equally prudent if I carried it across the parking lot for her and she could hold it in her seat in the van. She agreed.

Once in the van Elliot buckled up and I deposited a rather too-large-for-her-lap pumpkin in her lap. She hugged it and grinned happily.

We drove to kindergarten, where we picked up Mitchell and started for home. About three seconds onto the street I felt the pumpkin smack into the back of my seat, after rolling down her legs.

"Mommy!" she shrieked. "My pumpkin! I'm droppin' it!" Of course this is as I'm driving down one of the busier streets in town that doesn't offer a parking lane. I reached behind my seat and put my hand under the pumpkin (none of this counts as distracted driving at all). By now she's starting to get frantic. "Let go!" I laughed. "I've got it Elliot, just let it go!" "My pumpkin!" she wailed, but she let go of the stem and I managed to prevent it from hitting the floor hard. "Give me my pumpkin!"

I told her I'd get it to her as soon as we got home. The entire time one of Mitchell's favorite Pink songs was playing in the CD player, which masked the sound of her crying. That's right. Crying because she wanted to hold a pumpkin.

I turned the corner and the pumpkin rolled to the other side of the van and thudded against the other door. I laughed. Elliot cried the wide open mouthed cry of the melting-down toddler.

"It's okay Ellie!" I said. "It'll come back, just give it a second.

"The waiter just took my table
And gave it to Jessica SimpSHIT!"

(Pink's a total lyricist)

We turned another corner. The song ended, Mitchell hollered "I want the haunted house song!" meaning Funhouse, the pumpkin rolled back over to Elliot's side of the van and her crying quickly switched to laughing. We drove an extra few miles so Mitchell could hear the rest of his song, the pumpkin rolling back and forth across the van the entire way, Mitchell and I singing, and Elliot alternating between whining and yelling "Yay! My pumpkin!"

You'll be happy to know that the pumpkin made it home practically unscathed, although it's stem may have busted off and there may have been one last little cry before everyone exited the van.

I've come to realize that a lot of living happens in our van, with all our little personalities all buckled into their little spots in a relatively small space. 

I'm also glad that this pumpkin story was a little more fun than Jordan's gourd story. If you don't remember it, check it out HERE.


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