Pumpkin pie

In many ways, my son is all boy. He loves superheroes and obstacle courses, fishing and collecting worms. Yet he also loves baking.

Last week he asked if we could make a pumpkin pie from scratch – pumpkin to table. Always pressed for time, I was hesitant. But as his excitement grew, I knew I couldn’t say no. Because out of all my kids, he is the quietest. Connecting with him takes a little extra time. If he wanted to spend that time cooking pumpkin, that was what we were going to do.

And so one afternoon after school, we bought a pumpkin and got started scooping seeds. Within minutes, my boy was talking.

“Will these seeds grow into pumpkins?” he asked.

“They could, if we dry them out and plant them,” I said.

“Can we do that?” he asked, his voice higher.

“Yes, I’ll get a cup. We can save some for spring.”

“Yay! Can we plant them now?”

“Not until after winter.”

“I don’t want to wait.”

“It’ll go fast. We can start the seeds inside early.”

“Can we eat the seeds too? Or are they just for planting?”

“Oh yes, we can eat them. Want to roast them after we make pie?”

He clapped his gooey hands together. “Yes!”

I set aside some seeds, then halved the pumpkin and placed it into the oven to roast. And then, my head swirling with thoughts of how I was going to pull off growing pumpkins, I sent him off to play. When the pumpkin was done, I called him back, letting him scoop the flesh from the skin, then use our blender to mash it.

“This is so cool,” he said. “This used to be a pumpkin.”

“It still is,” I said. “Just all squished up!”

He laughed and I laughed and then the other kids ran in to help make the pie. After another twenty minutes of laughing and mixing, we slid two pies into the oven. An hour later, they emerged and we dug in for a bite. And it was delicious, the flavors deeper, the pie sweeter than when made from a can. Just like our conversations while making it.