magic pumpkin.

He makes it one house over from our Halloween bash.

“Treat.”

After Heaths’ kind neighbor hears he’s a first-timer, she looks for just the right thing and gently offers him a pumpkin sucker. He watches it fall into the bag.

No more door knocking for him—immediately opening, Mr. C climbs into the stroller, leans back and coasts the rest of the way down the drive. Observing the others going door-to-door he remains all content enjoying his one sacred piece of candy.

Now this must be a magic pumpkin—it not only lasts throughout the entire route, but into the evening.

For this year, the first house is the last house.

Nothing sweeter.

—

Mr. C and the everlasting sucker photos by Julie, sacred pink kitchen backdrop.