
One year, probably the year I turned 5 (my birthday sometimes falls on Thanksgiving, you
know), my mom had baked a bunch of pies to take with us. Pumpkin, apple--she put them on the floor of the car in front of my seat and told me I'd better be careful not to step in one of them. I don't remember putting my foot into one of the pumpkin pies, but I do remember my grandfather telling me that I'd have to eat the whole thing since it was my footprint. I was scared of the the man--on top of being a terribly literal child--and could not sleep that night for fear of what would happen when I couldn't eat the whole thing.
Last year, the kids were very excited to get to help make the pumpkin pies for our Thanksgiving dinner. They poured i

This year's pie escaped with just a few fingerprint marks and a couple of pieces of crust broken off. And it was very tasty.

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