It's the Great Pumpkin, Story Brown!

I have never carved a pumpkin.

Okay, that's a lie, apparently I carved one at a party when I was sixteen, but like many many other things that happened pre-college, I don;t really remember it.

But, I thought that it would be a really cool thing to do with my kids. And I thought for sure I could do it as long as I read about it on eHow first. Which I did.

And confident with that, I took the girls to buy pumpkins yesterday at Wal-mart. I decided to use the self-checkout since most of the lines were at least three people deep. I scanned each pumpkin, then waited patiently as the machine freaked out when I placed them in a bag. I inserted my cash, and waited for my change ($2.24!) to magically appear. The coins rolled down the chute, but the cash dispenser remained empty. I got down on it's level and saw my two dollar bills smushed deep inside the slot.

The lady running the self-checkouts called for "back-up." Which was a very young girl who stood with me and spoke into an earpiece begging someone to bring keys to the machine. We waited. Story and Ivy did impromptu modern dance in the aisle. We waited some more. A guy ran across the store shouting that he was getting the keys. Ivy and Story tried to pick each other up a dozen times, crashing into some woman's cart. (Yes, I am waiting for $2. I'm cheap, remember?)

The guy arrived with the keys. At that moment, the young girl decided to take $2 out of someone's till to give to me instead. After we'd waited. And my kids had accosted customers and merchandise.

So, we made it home with the pumpkins, and I decided to use them as incentive for the girls to clean up the playroom. After 6 hours of them begging to carve and me saying, "go clean up first!" I gave in, cleaned up the playroom myself, and then started the process.

We laid out both pumpkins on trash bags. I took a really big knife ans sawed the top of the first one. I was expecting a much bigger mess of stuff than what was in there. Both girls were waiting with anticipation. I tilted the pumpkin towards them, shoved a spoon in, and then pulled a spoonful of stringy stuff and seeds out. "Look guys, we get to scoop out all this stuff!"

"Cool!" Ivy said.

Story put her hands over her eyes and let out a blood curdling scream. "Noooooo, Mommy!!!!"

"Story? What's wrong?" I asked, peeling her hands off of her eyes.

"Mommy! I no wanna do da punkin. I skeered uh dat!" Which, loosely translated, means "I do not want to carve pumpkins, Mother. I am frightened of them."

Story was scared of pumpkins? The girl is a powerhouse when it comes to fear. She's either wildly brave or is intensely scared. Usually her phobias are loud things: fireworks....and fire. (She's got this new fear of the grill we have to get her out of, because we cannot stop grilling!!!) But pumpkins? It's almost like my insane condiment fears. 

Ivy was happily scooping out her pumpkin. She pulled the long membranes out and laughed at the squishes they made. I cut the top of Story's pumpkin off and then tried to engage her into using her brand new scooping spoon. "NOOOOO!!!" she screamed, fleeing the kitchen and slamming her bedroom door shut.

So, Ivy and I scooped and laughed. When we finally got all the gunk out, we drew faces and got out our little carving saws (please forget that I said saws...yes, the package said ages 12 and up, but my girls are smart!) I yelled for Story to come and carve the face out.

She tiptoed in, crept quietly over to where we were sitting. Ivy was attacking her pumpkin face with gusto. Story nervously took the saw, and I guided her hand to where I had drawn an eye. She sawed once, twice, and back again, then let go of the saw and ran crying from the room.

Ivy and I exchanged looks. "Boy, what a chicken," Ivy said. "Hey, that's okay," I said, "leaves more for us to do!"

We finished the pumpkins, and sat them up on the counter. Story came in just as we were done. She walked over to the two orange things and looked at them skeptically. She covered her face with her hands, and then opened them and screamed. "Mommy they scare me!" she said, laughing. Then she turned and saw me dumping the pumpkin innards into a bag. "AHHHHHHH!!!!" she screamed, fleeing the room once more.

Although I got her to pose for pictures with the finished product, Story has assured me that she is very scared of the inside of pumpkins. She is also never going to carve one, and was practically in hysterics until I promised her that Ivy and I would do all the carving from here on out.

And although I would like to pretend this is a silly little fear, as a condiment-phobic, I'm just thinking the apple has not fallen far from the tree. The girl is in for it.