We love our own

The other night we went to a pumpkin carving party and the boys took great pride in their creations, especially Weston. He loved his so much. When Royal was going around giving evaluations of each one, Weston laid his head down on his and gave it a hug while staring up at Royal. Weston didn't win. A brilliant "bat as mouth" pumpkin won in the kid category by Annika Lassen. Congrats to her, it was great.

Weston was confused. He had such an attachment to his pumpkin with the homemade light saber sticking through his skull... he knew it was the best.

Donovan didn't mind, he got the highest compliment ever: "The grossest". He was pleased. Donovan did not take too much time on his like usual, instead he chose to have his pumpkin vomit its guts out its mouth like a bomb went off inside.

So all the way home, Weston and Donovan kept asking which pumpkins I liked best. I mentioned several. I especially noted things I liked about each one of theirs, with great exuberance even, but I couldn't bring myself to say either one was my most favorite. I could tell they weren't satisfied.

That night was late for finally tucking them in. In fact I thought Weston was already asleep as I pulled his green fuzzy blanket up just under his chin, but then I heard him say without opening his eyes, "Mom, Donovan said said he loved my pumpkin best of all." "Oh, honey, I'm so glad. It really is special." "Yeah. I love it." Then he sighed a bit like Cindy Loo Who, turned onto his side and fell fast asleep with a smile on his lips.

[Thank you, Donovan.]