Punkin Huntin
**I had a server crash halfway though posting this entry. At least that’s what my fabulous tech geek told me. I know next to nothing about the mysteries of the Internet so I would have accepted almost any excuse including the onset of an Ice Age or someone’s cat had dug up my connection. Whatever. All I know was one minute I was posting and the next everything quit working. So if you logged on during this time and this entry was only halfway finished, now you know why and I’ll just shut up now and go ahead with your regularly scheduled post. Every year we get our Halloween pumpkins from a wonderful pumpkin patch only a few miles from our house. Tonight the girls waded in fearlessly, intent on finding the perfect pumpkin. Daddy was on hand to lend a critical eye. Adam was just glad to be outside. Though sometimes Mom was remarkably unobservant in matters of hood slippage. Pumpkin nirvana. And finally… the progressive lowering of our parenting standards. What do you do when your child’s pacifier falls in the dirt? First kid = throw it away. Second kid = boil to sterilize thoroughly before giving it back. Third kid = douse it with the water bottle and give it back. Fourth kid = pop it back in dirt and all?? (Will we ever stoop so low? Check back in a few years if and when we have a fourth kid.)
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