My hands smell like pumpkin.

The boy and I bought some gourds a few days ago, and gutted them like in-season SD pheasants today.

Me: What do you want to put on yours?
Boy: I want a witch flying past the moon with stars all around, over a forest.
Me: …
Boy: What?

It’s done now. He has a … well, it could be a witch, I suppose, although the star and moon and witches hat make it look a little like a traditional pumpkin face.

My jack-o-lantern looks scared. Deeply worried. Staring up at the sky. Freudian pumpkin carving.