Nicole Tasker Woods

My mother and father brought to my attention some very upsetting things about my Halloween memories. Things that must have been so horrible that my mind has subconsciously blocked them out, protecting me from remembering some very unsettling things.

When I called my folks Sunday evening, like I do every week, I was telling them of my plans on Saturday (October 31st) to carve a pumpkin with Cali and bake her birthday cake. I was shocked to hear my parents protest that I should go to TJ Maxx or Michael’s and pick up a fake pumpkin so that I could enjoy the decoration but avoid the mess and blood. Blood!? That’s right, I said it, BLOOD!

My mom told me that I had a tendency when younger to not cut the hole at the top big enough, or sometimes too big and the pumpkin would cave in. I would also ask her to help me scrape out the guts every time because (she claims I would complain) I could not do it myself. She also told me that I would cut my fingers multiple times while trying to carve the jack-o-lantern.

Dad told me I should get the safety knives that you give kids so that I couldn’t hurt myself. He also told me to get 911 punched into my cell phone so it is ready to call for help when I’m bleeding all over my pumpkin. Awesome. Gee—thanks guys! I accused them of conspiring with Ryan because he has no desire to see or smell the pumpkin and after telling him these tall tales he agreed with my Mom that I should skip the carving and pick up a fake pumpkin.

Oh oh oh! I almost forgot! She also claims that the pumpkin seeds do not taste good and that we really only did that for one year. I feel like my childhood Halloween memories have been stripped away from my parents and the joy has been robbed by my husband.