Last night during pumpkin carving, this horrible, horrible conversation with my sons took place.
Killian: How did pumpkin carving even become a thing?
Corwin: *talking over me* Long, long ago, it was the time of The
Great Pumpkin Wars - where pumpkins of old battled our neanderthal
ancestors. The neanderthals won, of course, having opposable thumbs and
clubs and all. And winning gave them the right to murder and decorate
future pumpkin children for generations to come.
Killian and I look at each other in horror. Okay, I admit, I was totally giggling.
Killian: *finding his voice first* What the fuck!? What the actual
fuck is wrong with you, man? Seriously? How do you-? I don't even...
Me: Does this mean you're not going to finish carving your pumpkin?
Corwin *looks quietly gleeful*
Killian: I'll finish it, but I'm not sure I want to share a room with that kid any more.
Yep. These are the ones I have.
Made 'em myself.
Oh, and these are the pumpkins we made!