Someone smashed my pumpkins

I understand that people experience a form of exhilaration when they break the law or do something they're not supposed to, but I have difficulty in identifying with many of the stupid things people do. Smashing pumpkins is one of them, and I'm not talking about Billy Corgan's shaved head. I'm talking about my beautiful decorative pumpkins on my front steps.

This morning I woke up and walked down stairs to find that someone had thoughtlessly smashed my pumpkins. Two medium-sized and one very large pumpkin (which cost me $14) were in the street split in half. The temperature dropped below freezing overnight, so the smashing possibilities were less than desirable for these juveniles, I'm sure, but they still decided to destroy my pumpkins.

I grew up on a dairy farm, so I didn't experience my intricately carved pumpkins being smashed by a bunch of hooligans. However, when we left the country for the city, I did. In middle school, my feelings were hurt when my creativity was laying in the street being run over by cars. I can't imagine how I would have felt if were much younger. This is why pumpkin smashing (and ruining others snow forts) bothers me so much. Not only are you smashing pumpkins, you're smashing a child's heart.

This year I bought very nice pumpkins because our house looks great in the fall. My son is only one year old, so he's not old enough to carve pumpkins anyway. But when he is old enough, and I am able to catch some little hood rat attempting to smash Isaiah's precious little pumpkins, I will smash him. That's a promise.

Until then, once these pumpkins thaw, I'm going to scoop out all of the insides and bake some flavorful pumpkin seeds. I might even take a stab at some pumpkin seed pesto.