Three days ago he seemed to zero in on the pumpkins for the first time. I handed him a baby pepo, he loved it and giggled loudly. The excitement of holding his own pumpkin must have awakened a recessed desire to run, because he suddenly took off like a bat on Halloween down the cobblestone walk. About five steps into the gallop, he fell. His hands were holding the pumpkin, thus unavailable to help catch the spill. Sadly, his beautiful baby face was the first thing to make contact with the brick. He cried. I nearly cried. We were both so sad.
Luckily, the physical evidence is almost already gone. He had one skid mark on his forehead and one on the nose, but we did a lot of anti-bacterial ointment and they are healing well. This morning we went to visit the scarecrows again, but he wanted to keep his distance. I think he's convinced they're behind the pumpkin incident.