So she wants a painted pumpkin, and I'm supposed to help. Does she want a cute little kid kind of cartoony pumpkin? A pumpkin with a goofy smile and triangle eyes, a pumpkin her less-than-uber-talented mother might have a shot at accurately recreating? A pumpkin that...won't give anybody nightmares? No. No she does not.
She wants this:
|Not only is it kind of creepy and disturbing for a FIVE-YEAR-OLD to have chosen,|
but, um...there is no way I'm that talented. That thing is 12 kinds of awesome.
And this from the woman who purchased a Zombie Baby eating its own foot and lovingly named it Gnarles. But hey. Gnarles lives outside, ok? And I'm an adult. I'm allowed to be demented. My baby girl? Well, it's inevitable that she, too, will be demented. I just thought it would take a few more years to get there.