Pun’kin

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When we went apple picking on Sunday, there were bins and bins of pumpkins.  I actually had no idea that Robbie even knew what a pumpkin was, but he kept trying to get into the bins to get one to take home.  We settled on getting a knit pumpkin hat (which he chose over the apple hat).  I wasn’t too sure what to expect with regard to the hat.  Mostly, I figured we’d take it home and he would forget about it.  I mean, isn’t that how it works?  You spend money on something and the kid forgets about it fifteen seconds later.

This rule does not apply when it comes to pumpkin hats apparently.  It is carefully stored in Robbie’s crib.  Once he’s put to bed, he rummages around, comes up with the hat, and says, “Punkin, Mama.  Punkin.  Hat.”  And then he sits down to read a book to Baby, the little bat he sleeps with.  You can’t make this stuff up…

Knowing about Robbie’s attachment to pumpkins, I decided to buy him one at the grocery last night.  Initially, I was going to get one of those painted mini pumpkins.  You know, the kind that’s $5.99?  Yeah.  The big, unpainted pumpkins?  Those were only $5.00 apiece.  So, Robbie got a big pumpkin.

I snuck into his room last night and left it on his armoire, right next to ‘Ish where Robbie would see it when he got up.  I heard Robbie stir and then he shot up in his crib and yelled, “Punkin!  Mama!  Punkin!  QiQi punkin!”  Fortunately, I was there to grab him before he climbed out of his crib to get to it.  He has decided that the pumpkin has a booboo and likes to kiss it on his way into and out of his room.  I just hope I can sneak it out before it starts to rot and ruins the furniture.

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