Our apartment community's office area has a festive autumn display out front ready to great potential residents with smiling scarecrows, pumpkins, and mums. The last couple weeks Teddy and I have been heading over to chat with the scarecrows on our walks. Conveniently, "hay" is one of the words Teddy can say so we do a lot of pointing at their hay-filled extremities while he says the word multiple times.
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.
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